


Cabin Fever

by Winterstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: After Ultron, the team needed something to pull them back together. A long weekend away at a cabin in the woods sounded like an excellent idea. They could binge watch favorite shows, cook, eat, play games. It would be great. Except it wasn't, because the storm of the century hit and Tony ends up stuck with Steve - alone in the cabin.orTwo boys, slow burn, get together...
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 83
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete. It is 3 chapters of about the same length. I started writing it and thought it would be about 7k. It clocks in at 30k. I thought this would be a little fix it for Marvel - like fix CW, fix Endgame and some happy times. But no this kept growing and growing. It's a LOT of fluff but some feelings and lots of slow burn. I hope you like it!

“I don’t think they’re coming.” Tony peers out through the wooden slates of the blinds at the same time he hears the telltale chirp of Steve’s phone. He cringes. It can only mean one thing – a text. Steve insists on a bird chirp for the text messages. He always grins when it goes off like some kind of idiotic monkey. A text is not a good sign.

The blizzard outside the window is not a good sign either. 

“You’re not wrong,” Steve replies and for a moment Tony has no idea what he means. He looks over his shoulder at his team leader. Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You said you don’t think they’re coming.” He shows Tony the phone, wiggling it in the air. “You’re not wrong. They can’t make it. The storm shut down the airport.”

Tony crosses the gap between them in two wide strides and rips the phone out of Steve’s hand. He stares at the text from Natasha. It’s simple, straightforward, and devious.

_Can’t make it. Storm. Have a good time and don’t go blind staring into one another’s eyes._

“I have serious doubts whether she’s telling the truth,” Tony mutters.

Steve huffs behind him in that exasperated mode he always uses with Tony. “I don’t see why. The storm is getting worse.” Steve glances at his phone – getting him technically aware has been the bane of Tony’s existence. “Weather has several warnings. Blizzard warnings. Looks pretty bad.” He lifts the phone to show Tony again.

In reply, Tony grumbles a curse. 

“Well, guess we’re stuck here. Rest of the team isn’t coming for our little holiday, teambuilding exercise.” Steve waves his arms to indicate the massive lodge they rented for the team and some support members to spend the long February weekend.

Tony glares but Steve choses not to notice, and Tony uses choses because that man is willing to step all over his feelings. He surveys the huge living room and kitchen of the lodge, with his hands on those elegantly slim hips. 

“I mean this isn’t the worse place to get stuck. It’s gorgeous and look at the view!” Steve points to the wide sliding glass doors that open to the wooden deck. Beyond the deck rolling hills and pine trees dot the landscape. It’s a veritable winter wonder land and Tony hates it. Meanwhile Steve’s digging in his duffle bag and bringing out sketchbooks and graphite pencils. “I haven’t sketched in an age. This is perfect for it.”

“Yeah, great.” There’s not a workshop in sight. The team specifically picked this place out so that they could just hang together, binge watch series, play boardgames, cook together. That kind of kumbaya thing. Tony didn’t want to come in the first place, but he’d broken up with Pepper some time ago, and there’s nothing for it. He’s here. 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he decides he should at least explore the place. The first floor is essentially what he sees with the exception of a laundry room and small half bath behind the kitchen. He wanders over to the stone fireplace. It’s at least 2.5 meters wide and reaches up to the cathedral ceiling. Over the fireplace is a stuffed dead goose which he could do without, but the woodwork of the mantle is rough and goes well with the stonework. He slides his hand over the wooden shelf but it’s smooth, not at all what it looks like. It’s master craftmanship. He’s always appreciated someone who can work with their hands. 

Next to the fireplace there is a pile of wood. He moves on, not like there are going to be any romantic evenings in front of the fire. His gaze drifts over to Steve who is currently setting up a small space for his art supplies. He has a box with a small easel that he’s trying to balance on one of the side tables. It means he’ll have to work with his body twisted.

“Why not pull over one of the dining room chairs?” Tony points out. 

Steve jerks to attention like his drill sergeant screamed orders at him. He glances at Tony and then the indicated chairs as if he’s assessing the dangers. “Chair?”

“Yeah,” Tony says and walks over to the large table that could easily fit twelve. One side of the table only has a long bench for seating, but the other side has tall chairs stained dark but with cushioned seats. He drags one over for Steve and then spots some tray tables tucked in the side next to the refrigerator. He leaves the chair in front of the sliding glass doors and then retrieves one of the tables. Unfolding it in front of the chair, he tests it for sturdiness and then presents it to Steve. “See? Good?”

Steve smiles, and Tony swears he sees the hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Yes, Tony. Thank you. You’re always a fixer that’s for sure.” He bobs his head in a kind of thank you and then puts his little easel on the table. “This should be great.” He situates the table at an angle to the windows. “So, I can see better.” 

“Great.” Tony nods. He waits for a full minute, watching Steve studiously and carefully place all his supplies exactly where he wants them. Sometimes, Tony thinks Captain America might be a little obsessive compulsive. “So, have you checked out the rest of the house? Picked a room?”

“Room?” Steve crunches up his face.

“Bedroom? Upstairs?” 

Steve had been the first to arrive. When Tony entered the lodge, Steve had been stocking the shelves of the kitchen and refrigerator with loads of groceries even though Tony had called ahead to have the resort they were staying on shop and deliver for them. Steve had only mumbled an apology about metabolism requirements and left it at that.

“No, I hadn’t checked out the second floor yet.” He looks up at the expansive arching ceiling with its exposed beams and log work. 

“Well, you want to pick out a bedroom or do you want to just-.” Tony’s query dies on his lips. Obviously, Steve wants to draw. He doesn’t want to accompany Tony up to the second floor to check out an unknown place. Ever since the Afghanistan deal, he’d always had reservations about new and different places without the armor.

Steve frowns but agrees. “Sure. We can check it out. Let’s go.” He puts down the pencil and waits – Tony takes this as his cue to lead the way. 

The stairs – a structural monstrosity the only part of the lodge Tony thinks is far too large for the space – are just left of the stone fireplace. They lead up to a balcony type space which overlooks the living room and kitchen. The walkway ends at the foyer to the bedrooms. There are only five.

“Huh?” Tony says. Steve peers around the area looking for what’s amused him. He explains, “Five bedrooms, six Avengers. I wonder who was going to share in Natasha’s mind.” She’s the one who planned this whole teambuilding exercise. Sure, Fury insisted on it, but it was Natasha who worked out the details after the whole Ultron fiasco.

“Six?” Steve shakes his head. “Bruce is nowhere to be found. Plus, we have all the new members.”

Tony can’t tell why this feels like a burst bubble to him. They’d all bunked together at Barton’s. It’d been a tight fit with three to a room. “Well, I guess we get to pick.” 

Steve clears his throat and points toward the front bedroom. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have this one since it has a different view from the others and the living room. It’ll give me good practice with my sketching.”

Tony steps into the room. The view is outstanding. There’s a small lake, pond really, in the front that’s crystalline and icy in the drifting snow. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs.

“If you want it, I don’t have to-.”

Tony waves him off. “No. You take it. It’s just wasted on me.” He finds the bedroom farthest from Steve in the corner back side of the house. Because it is a corner room it has windows on two walls. It’s decorated in muted tones of taupe. It’s serene. He should be able to relax – maybe too much in the room. 

“This is nice too,” Steve says as he hangs in the hallway. “I think we all have our own bathroom.”

“Ensuite. Nice,” Tony says and disappears into his bath. It’s obviously not the master and he suspects that Steve’s claimed the master bedroom, but Tony’s not about to complain, after all he already gave up the big room. 

As if reading his mind, Steve calls from outside the room. “We can still exchange if you want. I think I got the biggest room.” 

“Not necessary. Contrary to popular belief, I can rough it once in a while.”

Steve quirks a brow at him.

“And this is hardly roughing it,” Tony snickers. He claps Steve on the arm as he heads back toward the stairs. “You want some lunch? I’m starved.” Which is not true, but what the hell else is he supposed to do?

“Sure,” Steve says and hops right along with Tony. “I brought some deli meats.”

“I’m pretty sure I had that on my order list.” In the kitchen Tony starts rummaging through the refrigerator where he finds heinously huge stacks of deli meats. “What are we going to do with all this food. There was supposed to be six of us.”

“Five.” Steve pulls out some of the deli meat, mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomatoes. “Why don’t you tell me what you want. I’ll fix something.” 

“I mean, I could.”

Steve digs into the freezer and then dangles a package of half frozen bacon in front of Tony. “I have bacon. I could make club sandwiches.”

Salivating, Tony swallows. Pepper never let him have bacon. “Yeah. That. I want that.”

Steve chuckles. “Club sandwiches it is!” 

In no time at all, Steve fries the bacon on a large gridle he found in the cupboard and brings out the toaster to pop in some slices of bread. Tony watches fascinated at Steve’s skill and mastery of all things kitchen related.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, this is hardly cooking, and I’d hardly call myself a master chef. Have you seen Chef Ramsey? That man is a genius but has a potty mouth.” He retrieves two beers from the fridge and sets them on the counter island, opening both and sliding one over to Tony. 

“I’m not sure calling him on his language is going to stop him,” Tony says as he tastes the beer. It’s actually a dark ale, heady and deep. 

Steve slices the tomatoes. “No, probably not. Never stopped any of my teammates.”

“And you don’t have a potty mouth?” Tony asks, tipping back the beer for another swig.

“Only when it’s necessary.” He smiles as he rinses the lettuce.

“It’s too bad the rest of the team couldn’t make it,” Tony remarks, not wanting to fall into the dreaded awkward silence.

“Really? I’m not really. I’m surprised you even made it.” He finishes tearing off leaves of lettuce. 

“I’m part of the team, aren’t I? Why wouldn’t I make it?” 

The toast pops up and Steve ignores it to flip the bacon. “I don’t know. I just thought you were going to retire to a farm with Pepper.” 

Peeling the label from the beer bottle, Tony says, “Well, retirement never sticks with me.” He hasn’t confessed to anyone that he and Pepper have finally called it quits. She can’t stand him always going back to Iron Man. Ultron ended it for her. She couldn’t get over it and told him. He’s on a march toward death and she wasn’t going to sit around and watch him. She was moving on. “Pepper left me.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but it comes as naturally as the wind in a hurricane, a force of nature to destroy. 

Steve drops his utensil. “What?”

“Yeah.” He looks up momentarily at Steve and finds a mix of emotions etched over his features. He can’t parse the meaning. “Ultron was the final straw. We were headed that way for a while. Even after I got the arc reactor out of my chest, I think we both knew we were just playing, pretending. Then I put together the Iron Legion, kept building suits. I’d promised and broke that promise. What’s a relationship without trust?”

Steve nods quickly and turns away. As he works at the sink, he says in a weak voice, “I’m sorry to hear that. I always thought you were a great couple.”

“No, we weren’t. Pepper was a great support. That’s all. We should only have ever been friends. Ever have anyone in your life like that?” He doesn’t expect an answer and forges ahead. “Anyway, we ended it. Pepper left and now I’m free to be who I want to be.”

Steve clears his throat and turns back to the bacon. “I think you should consider that a relationship shouldn’t be about changing who you are.”

“Look who’s talking?” Tony snickers. “I mean you literally changed, had mad scientists one of which was my father experiment on you.”

Steve tilts his head as if he’s trying to not hear what Tony said. “That’s not the same.”

“Sure it is. How many dates did you have before you changed into Adonis?” Tony asks. He gets up, rounds the counter, and gets more beer from the fridge. He sets one bottle next to the one Steve’s barely touched. 

“I had dates, Tony.” Steve sounds exasperated with Tony, but not only him but probably the rest of the world as well.

“Hey, I’m just saying. But really, don’t tell me you didn’t have more opportunities when you, you know.” He waves at Steve to indicate the whole package.

Assembling the sandwiches, Steve keeps his eyes lowered as he speaks, “It wasn’t about opportunities. It was about feelings.”

“Don’t tell me you were saving yourself for marriage,” Tony bursts out. 

Steve pulls of chagrinned better than anyone he knows. “I didn’t save myself at all.”

“Well, the movies always said that you and Peggy were more unrequited than doing the nasty.” 

Steve slides over the plate to Tony. It has a double decker club sandwich with potato chips on the side – another thing Pepper would grumble about him eating. She always replaced them with some weird granola chips or something. 

“I never said it was Peggy,” Steve says and down his first beer in one long swig. 

Tony can’t help but stare at his Adam’s apple oscillating up and down in his throat. It’s prominent and, God help him, sexy as hell. He tears himself away from the sight, coughs, and says, “Kiss and tell. Tell me who it was? One of the secretaries in the pool. A nurse that bandaged your wounds.”

For a second, Tony thinks he’s gone too far, but then Steve considers his request with a tiny grin. “Remember what you said about some people are better friends? Let’s just say it was something like that.”

Tony picks up the hearty sandwich and says, “Now I gotta know.”

Biting his sandwich, Steve shakes his head. “Nope.” His mouth is full, but he manages not to make a mess.

“I have a long weekend, Rogers. You’re gonna break. I promise you that much.” Tony winks at him.

“I don’t know, I’ve been tortured by Nazis.”

While Steve’s joking, the thought of him being tortured by the foulest of villains in history bothers Tony too much to take the bait. There’s only so much that he can handle, considering the secret he’s harboring as he gazes at Steve. He looks away and then dusts his hands of crumbs. He hasn’t finished yet, but right now, he needs to escape.

“I’m gonna go hit the hay. The flight in was tedious.”

“Okay.” Steve stands up as Tony does.

He gestures for Steve to continue. “Go ahead and eat the pound of bacon. I’m really not allowed. Old abused arteries after all.” He claps his chest a little; it’s numb where the arc reactor used to reside so he can’t really feel anything. “I can clean the kitchen when I wake up.”

Steve smiles. “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

Tony turns around, not wanting to see Steve’s earnest expression. “I think it is. You have cook duty. I’ll do the clean-up.” With that he crosses the room and climbs the staircase. He forces himself to keep his pace steady and not rushed but once he gets to his room, he closes and locks the door. He leans against it and releases a breath. He has to get out of here. He can’t stay here with Steve. Not the way he feels, not with the secrets he’s hiding. 

He rubs a hand down his face. Of course, he left his suitcase downstairs. He deflates onto the queen sized bed and slumps there. He doesn’t search around, look at what’s offered in the room. He doesn’t give a shit. This is all Natasha’s fault.

Pulling out his phone, he presses on her contact. In short order she answers, “Stark, you can’t even make it two hours.”

“This is your doing. I know you set it all up,” Tony replies. His irritation grows. This is one of the reasons he wanted to quit the team. In school he hated to be matched up with team members, it always meant he had to carry the load while they sat on their asses. That’s not to say that any of the Avenger members don’t carry their load, but they’re all type A personalities and that just doesn’t jive together. Literally when working with a team someone has to stand down. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen with the Avengers. 

“Maybe a little. But I know I’m not the only one who sees you mooning after Cap.” He thinks he detects a little giggle and he doesn’t appreciate it.

“There’s no mooning. I just got out of a long term relationship and I’m still healing from that,” Tony bites back.

“Oh please, even Pepper says you’ve been mooning for years.”

That can’t be right. No. Pepper never figured out Tony’s secret obsession. His father always called it dirty and disgusting. Tony’s been holding that secret in his heart for decades. “No. I haven’t been mooning and I don’t appreciate all you did to make sure I’m stuck here with Mister Shive Up His Ass for the long weekend.”

“Probably be longer than that, considering the weather,” Natasha chuckles as she says it.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to go to your old buddies in Moscow to fuck up the weather.”

He can almost see her eyes roll. “Okay, Stark. Have a good time. Don’t over do it. I don’t want to see you or Cap walking funny when you get back.” She disconnects and Tony seethes. 

He sits back on the bed, glares at the room – which is well appointed – but hates it anyway. Staring at his phone, he knows full well he has a way out. He can just call JARV- Friday and get his new AI to send a suit. Jumping up from the bed, he goes to the window to check the weather. It’s not looking good. Flying in a blizzard isn’t something he relishes. The turbulence always makes him want to vomit. 

He flicks on the phone. “Friday, give me a read out on the weather.”

“Sure, boss. The weather for your location shows a significant weather pattern and blizzard hanging around for another 36 hours at least. Wind gusts up to 80 miles per hour with sustain winds of 40 miles per hour expected. Roads are hazardous and local officials are banning any non-emergency travel.”

He frowns. He could probably convince local authorities that it’s Avengers business, but then when nothing happens it might get back to Steve. It would get back to him anyhow. It’s not like he isn’t going to notice Tony leaving. He curses. Well there’s nothing for it, he’s stuck here. 

Throwing himself on the bed, he stares at the exposed beams. It’s beautiful if a little too rustic for Tony’s tastes. He’s all clean lines and metal. The warmth of wood and the texture of roughness presents a different picture – one of nature and hominess. Tony never really known home; it’s a foreign concept to him.

He must fall asleep contemplating his displacement. When he wakes it’s too the smell of coffee. Sitting up he rubs at his eyes and looks over to the window. It’s still snowing, and still light out. He couldn’t have slept that long. 

“Hello sleepyhead.” Steve stands at the door to Tony’s room. He has a large mug in his hand with steam wafting around the rim. “I thought you were going for a nap yesterday, not to bed for the night.”

“Bed? Wait. What?”

“You went to bed at like four in the afternoon yesterday. You must have been beat.” Steve waves the mug of coffee like a carrot in front of a horse. “I made coffee to see if it would revive you.”

Tony widens his eyes. “It’s for me?”

Steve grins. “Sure is.”

He’s across the room before he even takes a breath and grabs the coffee mug from Steve’s hands. He sips it and it’s made to perfection. Sighing, he says, “How’d you know how I like my coffee? And where did you get the most perfect creamer ever?”

“Well you always used to go to that little shop around the corner from the Tower. I went into Manhattan and I asked them to make some of their creamer and brought it with me.” 

That’s incredibly perceptive and also very thoughtful. Tony swallows down the coffee as his heart wants to skip in his chest. It’s playing games with him. It’s whispering lies and wishes to him. 

“I just thought it might make this whole experience a little better for you. I’m team leader and I have to think about how each of the members of the team deal with things,” Steve says and he’s exiting the room. “I have breakfast. There’s more bacon.”

“Be right down.” Tony places the cup on the table. Of course, it’s a leader thing, nothing special about it at all. Tony’s reading too much into things like he always does when it comes to personal issues. He digs his phone out from under his pillow and texts Natasha.

_What powers over the weather do you have?_

Before he can even throw the phone back onto the bed the response comes. It’s only a laughing emoji. If he didn’t fear her so much, he’d probably want to date her. She’s that powerful. Tony’s always had a power kink. He needs to stop thinking about this or else he’s going to need to jerk off in the shower before he joins Captain America for breakfast. He quickly used the ensuite and then goes back to the bedroom. He groans and picks up the coffee cup.

“Think about coffee, Stark,” he mutters and starts downstairs with his mug in hand. The aroma of the coffee, eggs, and bacon mix and cause his stomach to protest in a loud growl as he walks over to the dining nook. 

Steve serves a plate filled with bacon. He invites Tony to join him. “Well, I’m glad you’re awake. It was kind of lonely last night. I started a fire. It was a little chilly this morning even with the furnace on.”

Tony swings around and sees the fire cracking in the large hearth. This should all be romantic, but all it is – is painful. “Shouldn’t we try and get out? I mean what if there’s an emergency. We’re Avengers after all.”

Steve glances at the window but then back at what he’s doing; dishing out their breakfast. He keeps his gaze lower as he answers, “I don’t think we’re getting out of here any time soon. You’re welcome to call Natasha and see if she can get a Quin Jet for us. All flights have been canceled at the airport over three states, though.”

“You already looked into it?” Tony asks and the thought of Steve wanting to leave hurts and he’s not ready to admit that he has no business being hurt when he’s been jonesing for the same thing. 

Steve points to the now black television hanging on the wall in the living room. “Said so on the news and weather channel. It’s the storm of the century, they’re saying.”

Tony pulls his chair out and sits down. “Don’t know how they can call it the storm of the century when it’s literally just the start of said century.”

Steve seems to perk up when Tony admits defeat as far as leaving at this moment. He smiles and says, “Well, we have all the supplies we need. It should be fine. We’ll have a quiet weekend. Obviously, you need a lot of sleep considering how sleep deprived you are.”

After he finishes serving the food, Steve tucks into the meal and eats with a flourish that Tony envies. Ever since he was a child and his father would admonish his mother for the slightest deviance from her diet, Tony always had an issue with food. Filling himself harkened back to those times.

When Steve notices that Tony’s watching him, he slows down and drops his fork. He wipes away the egg on his lips. “Sorry, I get really hungry, especially in the morning. I used to try and be more polite about it, but then I started fainting halfway through the morning.”

That brings a smile to Tony’s face. “Really? Captain America fainting?”

“Fell right down during one of the shows in Buffalo. The handler, my handler said it was part of the act. It wasn’t - my blood sugar must have been low or something.” He digs into his food again. 

“Must have been a shock to you. Having to eat so much.”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Everything was. The moment I came out of that pod, I took a breath and it didn’t hurt. I could walk up a flight of stairs without getting lightheaded. I could swim. It was phenomenal.” He finishes his four eggs over easily with six slices of toast on the side. “It was a miracle what your dad and Doctor Erskine did.”

“My dad was a tag along on that experiment. On a lot of experiments.” Tony chews on his toast. Steve only gave him two eggs but that’s more than enough for him. He drinks his coffee.

“So not to change the subject at all, but do you have any plans for today?” He plucks a strip of bacon from his plate and bites it.

Tony turns to the windows. The winds are picking up and the snow leaves a blanket that blinds him to everything else. “Can’t see a thing out there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think going hiking is going to be on the schedule. It’s pretty nasty out there,” Steve says and sits back. He belches a little and excuses himself. “More coffee?” 

“Please,” Tony says and hands over his mug.

As he stands up, Steve explains, “I was thinking of maybe watching a movie. They have Netflix and I still have some catching up to do.”

“I thought Sam and Natasha were working on that with you.” Tony leans his arm on the back of the chair. 

“Well with the cat out of the bag about Barton’s family, Natasha’s not always around much anymore. She spends a lot of time at the Barton farm. And Sam’s still based in D.C., so I don’t get to see him much.” 

“Really?” Tony stands and starts to clear the table. He might have grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth, but his mother always had him clear his dishes and help Jarvis with the kitchen clean up. “I thought I saw Sam there quite a bit.”

Steve doesn’t look at Tony as he places the k-cup in the machine. “We’re working on a project together. He’s part of the Avengers, though he’s only part time.”

“When’s he going full time?” Tony scrapes the dishes.

“Soon. He has some groups that he leads he’s trying to find someone suitable to take them over at the VA. Probably be 100% with us by Spring.” Steve retrieves the special creamer from the refrigerator and Tony grins.

“By the way, thanks for thinking of me with the coffee creamer.”

“Aw, it was nothing,” he replies but Tony swears he sees the color on Steve’s cheeks heighten. Expertly, Steve fixes Tony his second cup of coffee and then begins to clean the kitchen. 

“Ah, no. I can do that. You cooked. We should share duties.”

“It’s really no problem. I find it relaxing. Just drink your coffee. I know you’re not human until you get a gallon in you.”

“You plebeian, it’s liter nowadays,” Tony says and picks up the mug Steve left on the counter. He smells it, enjoying the aroma again. 

“Well not to the whole of the US, that’s for sure.” Steve doesn’t open the dishwasher but fills the sink with detergent and water and washes the dishes by hand.

“Are we going completely old fashioned, there is a dishwasher,” Tony says.

“I know. Like I said I find it relaxing.”

Before Tony responds a gust of wind outside fiercely rattles the windows. “Crap. Friday said the gusts could reach up to 80 miles per hour.” Tony heads toward the window to check the progress of the storm. Yesterday the snow was heavy, today it’s epic. Maybe it is the storm of the century. “How many feet do you think we have?”

Steve snickers. “Hard to tell when there’s so many drifts around.”

“What are you laughing at?” Tony cups his hands around the mug. Just looking at the snow and wind makes him cold. 

“In the space of a breath you used the old English system twice and you call me a plebeian.” He stacks the dishes on the rack. 

“Heaven forbid. I was doing it for your benefit.”

“Sure, you were, sure you were.” 

Steve keeps working in the kitchen as Tony checks his phone again for an updated forecast. He reads through it, watches the radar a couple dozen times. “It’s official, the front is stalled out. They think it’s going to be like this for another day. Plus, there’s another front on it’s tail.”

Drying his hands on a towel, Steve nods. “Well, at least we’re safe and sound here. Unless we lose electricity-.”

“Shouldn’t happen, I told Natasha I would not come here if there wasn’t a whole house generator just in case.” He drinks the last of his coffee. “I should check the fuse box and make sure it’s set up correctly.” 

“Well I’ll check for supplies like flashlights and candles. Never can be too careful.”

Tony agrees and places his cup near the coffee maker. He heads to the laundry room behind the kitchen. He thought he saw another door in the small room that may lead to the basement. He hits the jackpot and flicks on the light switch before attempting the stairs. They’re in a state of disrepair which surprises him since the rest of the house is pristine. When he finds the fuse box, he’s less than impressed; the wiring to the generator looks like a kid jerry-rigged it and the generator probably won’t go on automatically. He spends some time figuring out the wiring plan and then makes a mental note of tools he needs. For the rest of the morning, he rummages through old boxes, crates, and cabinets for tools. 

“Tony?”

He looks up from a crate he’s half buried in. “Yeah?”

“How does stew and fresh bread sound for dinner?” 

Tony frowns. He never knew how much Captain America thinks about food. “Sounds good.” 

“Gonna be up soon? Is there a problem?” 

If Tony didn’t know better, Steve sounds absolutely forlorn like a lost dog. He drops some of the old wires he clutches, stands up, hits his head on the side of the crate, curses, and then says, “Coming up soon.”

“Okay. I’ll get the popcorn ready.”

“Sure.” Popcorn is great and all, but Tony’s still pretty stuffed from breakfast. He’s not going to be able to keep up with a super soldier’s appetite. That’s why having Thor around is fun. Steve and Thor have eating contests. Once in a while, Bruce joins in especially after the Hulk’s appearance. Thinking about Bruce sullies his mood. He casts the thoughts aside along with the wires and then climbs the rickety stairs back to the main floor. 

Stopping at the half bath, he washes his hands and then catches sight of himself in the mirror. He hasn’t showered in over a day and his hair style competes for best bed head. He really should take some time for personal hygiene, but when he enters the kitchen, he hears popcorn popping in the microwave and finds Steve kneading dough.

“What’s going on?” Things are starting to make a lot less sense.

“Popcorn for movies and I’m finishing up the dough for fresh bread.”

“You’re positively domestic,” Tony remarks.

Steve beams. “My mom taught me. I used to do the kneading because I thought it would give me muscles.” He laughs. “Didn’t work. Always had an asthma attack or arrythmia when I did it. But I loved it.”

Despite the cold, Steve wears a short sleeved t-shirt that’s pulled tight over his chest and biceps. It’s a wonder to behold and Tony can’t tear himself away. He slips onto the stool to observe. The muscles undulate and flex as Steve works the dough. His concentration focuses on the dough allowing Tony to watch unabashed by his brazenness. 

Without looking up, Steve says, “Do you want to pick out a movie? The popcorn’s done. I’ll get something to drink after I let the dough rest and rise.”

“Oh, I-.” Tony jolts to consciousness. “Yeah, sure. I’ll pick something out.”

“You want a beer, soda, water?” Steve plops the dough into a big plastic bowl and covers it with a clean dishtowel. Coffee is suspiciously absent in the list of drinks. 

“Water.”

“Yeah, me too.” Steve washes his hands as Tony goes to the living room to figure out the television. “The remotes are on the side table. The binder on the coffee table has instructions. I used it last night. I watched Star Wars.”

“Which Star Wars?” Tony flips through the laminated pages of the binder to find the television instructions. He doesn’t need them, but it gives him something to do other than think of Steve’s pecs.

“The one with the Death Star.” 

Tony laughs. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“Luke wants to be Jedi like his father,” Steve explains as he sets the huge bowl of popcorn on the table with two bottles of water. “He blows up the Death Star at the end with the help of the cowboy with his dog.”

“I assume you mean Han Solo and Chewbacca.” Tony grumbles as he searches for The Empire Strikes Back. “You are in luck because the best movie of the franchise is the next one.” 

“In your opinion,” Steve says as he settles within an inch of Tony on the couch. 

“Not only my opinion, the opinion of the whole world.” Tony winks at him and then bends forward to grab a handful of popcorn. When he peers over his shoulder to see his reaction, he witnesses Steve staring with his mouth slightly open at the slightly exposed skin at Tony’s waist. He blinks and turns back to the bowl. He’s imagining things. He picks up the bowl and strategically places it on his lap. “This way we don’t have to keep reaching for it.”

Steve coughs and nods. “Good, good idea.”

Tony quickly snaps on the movie and the blaring music fills the room. “Wow, great sound system.”

Through a mouthful of popcorn, Steve remarks, “Yeah. I couldn’t believe you slept through it yesterday.”

Tony doesn’t say he was either extremely tired or trying his best performance in avoidance. He points to the large screen plastered on the wall. “I think you’ll like this one.”

Steve tosses some popcorn into his mouth. “Well, that’s good considering I almost fell asleep last night watching the first one.”

“Really?” It shocks Tony. “I’d think you’d love it. Boy going off to defeat evil. Stormtroopers. Very Nazi, World War II type of things.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, maybe I was comparing it to Star Trek. I’d watched a bunch of those with Sam and Natasha already. A few with Clint, too.”

“Star Trek and Star Wars are mutually exclusive. You can love both,” Tony says. Star Wars always held a soft space in his heart. He’s seen the original saga as a boy and his mother loved it, so he naturally took to it as well. Even with it’s perchance for leaning on a magical Force, Tony still enjoyed it. He only came to loving Star Trek later in life when he was a college student and Rhodey introduce him to that, Babylon 5 and the Doctor. 

Steve shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth and mumbles a ‘yeah, I guess so’. 

They settle into watching the movie, but Tony spends more time checking if Steve’s enjoying himself. He admits he can’t deny that he wants Steve to love it, to be shocked at that revelation, to want the rebels to win. As the movie progresses, he notes that Steve’s engaged and not drifting off. He’s forgotten the popcorn by the time the Falcon is avoiding ridiculously close asteroids. He genuinely says aw when R2D2 is stuck outside of Yoda’s hut in the rain, only peeking in the window on the tips of his treads. Tony always like the droids the best.

Finally, they get to the ultimate confrontation between Luke and Darth Vader. It’s nail biting and Steve chews on his cuticles as Luke tries to hit away the large equipment that Vader throws at him. Then it’s the moment, it’s almost there and Tony watches as Steve jolts up in his seat at the words, _No. I am your father._ The horror on Luke’s face is mirrored by Steve’s features. He truly hates it and shifts a glance at Tony to confirm he heard correctly. As Luke drops Steve slumps in his seat not really watching the rest of the movie. When the end comes, he’s distracted and cleaning up the popcorn and waters. 

“I think I’m going to go clean up. I’ll wash the dishes when I get back.”

Without ceremony or review, Steve leaves the living room. Tony stares at the scrolling names of the production crew wondering what the hell he just witnessed. This was supposed to be a great time. Not one like this, not something that drove them further apart. 

He turns off the big screen and goes to the large sliding glass doors to the deck. Reading people is like predicting the weather. Nice one minute, a blizzard the next. Gusts torture the trees outside and bend them to its will. He thinks of Steve’s reaction. Nothing can bend Captain America to its will, but maybe a fictional story can twist him a little. 

The wind batters at the windows and the snow swirls as Tony tries to recall anything, he read during his adoration of Captain America in his childhood. Nothing comes to mind particularly about his father. The emphasis had always been on his saintly mother, not his father. 

Not able to make heads or tails of it, Tony goes to the kitchen cleans up and then heads back downstairs to fix the mess of wiring in the house. At least it’s something to do while Steve is sulking or whatever. They’d all promised not to bring their Avengers equipment with them, that meant no armor for Tony. All he really has is his phone link to Friday and his tablet. While he sits and sorts through the wires he gathered, he sends a text to Maria Hill.

_Any info on Steve’s dad?_

It takes a while for her to answer. He’s halfway through rewiring the connection to the whole house generator when his phone pings.

_Died when Steve was a baby from exposure to gas during WWI. Nothing else really in the record. Why?_

_Do we know if Joseph Rogers was actually Steve’s dad?_

The response comes almost immediately. _That’s an odd question. Of course, we don’t have DNA from him, but there’s no evidence to suggest otherwise. May I ask why you’re curious?_

Tony clicks off the phone. Whatever happened, he’s at a lost to figure it out. He immerses himself in the problem at hand – the rewiring of the ancient whole house generator. Hours later he hears the door slam upstairs and his heart skips a beat. The thought of Steve venturing outside during a literal blizzard terrifies him more than he wants to say. He drops his tools and races upstairs to find that – no Steve hadn’t just left he was actually returning from chopping wood apparently. He carries a huge armload of split logs in his arms.

Seeing Tony, he says, “Thought I would chop some wood just in case.” He dumps the whole pile by the fireplace and then stacks it. Snow covers him and it slowly melts as he works on his task. 

“You should have called me. I could have helped. I know you don’t like the cold.”

“That’s what people assume,” Steve mutters but keeps at it.

“What’s that?”

Steve stands, exhales loudly, and then wipes away the melted snow that’s dripping from his hair. “I’m actually pretty fine with the cold. I always wanted to be able to go out in the cold as a kid but couldn’t ‘cause I was so sickly. But people think I hate the cold because of the crash. I honestly don’t remember much of the crash. Last thing I remember is talking to Peggy. That’s all.”

“You don’t remember?” He joins Steve at the fireplace and helps stack wood.

Steve shakes his head. “Nope. I think they call it some kind of amnesia, I don’t know. Traumatic? I don’t recall.” He gives a little laugh. “But you know, no reason not to like the snow.” 

“Wow,” Tony says in a low whisper. “All those stories, all that stuff in the news about your phobia of snow and cold.”

Steve sniffles. “Made up. Nothing happens to me in the cold. No freezing and going into stasis. No PTSD or whatever. None of that. In fact, I kind of like it. I was looking forward to learning how to ski. Maybe sledding. I didn’t get to do that as a kid. Growing up in New York City and being sick kind of made that an impossibility.”

“All those movies,” Tony says. “There was this one movie-.”

Steve stops him. “Yeah, I saw it. All fabrication. Peggy never had to kiss me because I was frozen and sleeping like Snow White.”

Tony grins. “It was kind of silly. And sappy. But I still watched it as a kid.”

Steve breaks some of the small sticks for kindling and piles them in the hearth. “Well I’m glad you liked them.” He clears his throat as he lays the logs. “I think I have to talk to you Tony.”

His heart stills. “About?”

“Let me get out of these wet clothes. Take a shower and I’ll be down. Okay?” Steve stands and puts his gloved hands on his hips. 

Tony wants to say _absolutely not, you can’t tell someone you need to talk to them and then say hey wait I want to take a shower._

“I’m gonna clean up.” Steve leaves without letting him comment. 

Tony stands there like an idiot and a little stunned. He thought they were building a fire. It’s cold and the furnace is only mediocre at best. The wind howls and he hears it through the flue in the chimney. It’s getting dark. He should probably think about dinner. Absently he wonders if Steve ate lunch without him. Scratching at his neck, he realizes he hasn’t cleaned up properly either, and now he kind of stinks like the cobweb infested moldy basement. 

He trudges upstairs. The water heater probably won’t handle two of them showering at the same time. He lingers for a bit outside of Steve’s room until he hears the shower turn off and then he scurries away being as quiet as possible. Lord knows, he doesn’t want Steve to think he was spying. 

Quickly disrobing, Tony tosses his clothes in a heap in the small closet and then jumps in the shower. It takes a few minutes for the water to even out and get hot enough for him. Steve might not mind the cold, but he sure does. The water rains down but his mind runs in circles. 

Steve needs to talk to him. He acted funny after the big reveal in the movie and now he needs to talk to Tony. How it matches up, Tony hasn’t a clue. Of course, there’s the secret Tony’s kept locked up and stored away, not wanting to share with Steve. He’d thought of several ways to break it to him, but none seemed right. To complicate matters, Tony’s feelings – growing and developing which he’s tried to deny – keeping popping up and getting in the way. 

It hits him then as he’s washing – the team. Cap is kicking him off the team. That’s it. Makes perfect sense. Luke’s cry of anguish – probably something that Steve dreads from Tony. It all ties together. The team meeting had been set up to support Cap’s decision, to stop Tony from arguing and protesting. He leans against the wall. It’s cold stone tile and he wants to cry but nothing will come – he’s torn up so much inside that he’s dried out and dead. He shivers even in the warm water.

“Time to face the music,” Tony says. No sense in delaying it. He needs to deal with it like a man. He can almost hear his father’s voice echoing in his head. He cringes and rinses the soap and shampoo away. 

He towels dry. Slipping into his sweats and t-shirt with a hoodie, he finger combs his hair and doesn’t take the time to shave. He should try more, but right now he doesn’t give a fuck. When he finally summons the courage to go downstairs and join Steve, the aroma of stew fills the air along with freshly baked bread. 

“Sorry, I just threw the stew together. I almost forgot, but the bread should be good.”

Tony shoves his hands in his pockets and rather than let the bull skewer him, he takes it by the horns. “Well, what do you want to say, Rogers. Just come out and say it. I’m a big boy.”

Steve stops stirring the big pot of stew on the stovetop. He sets the wooden spoon on the trivet. He nods. He’s gone a little pale and gaunt. “Okay. I should. Just say it.” He flicks his gaze to Tony and then back to the side. “Can you sit, please?”

It sounds more desperate than Tony thinks it should, but it’s possible Steve’s never had to fire anyone in his life. Of course, Tony’s never been fired either. Learn something new every day! Yippee. He sighs heavily. He doesn’t give Steve the satisfaction of being able to do this without looking into his eyes. 

Steve wets his lips and then bows his head. He looks up at Tony, obviously steeling himself for the bad reaction with his hands folded on his belt – the classic Cap stance. “I want to tell you something that I learned.”

A lesson first, that’s quaint. Tony says nothing.

“When I was on the run with Natasha, we ended up in New Jersey. I think you know about that, where I was essentially – where Project Rebirth happened. Or part of it.”

Where could this possibly be going? 

“When we were there, we ended up finding a secret database. Arnin Zola’s brain had been downloaded into these thousands of old time database machines.”

“Okay?” Tony furrows his brow. What the hell? “Do you want me to try and salvage it?”

Steve sucks in his cheeks and then blows out. “No. It was completely destroyed but not before Zola, the machine Zola revealed somethings. Some terrible things.” He grabs the other stool near the island and sits down, hands folded on the countertop. “Zola showed us things. Things that I spent the last year or so trying to confirm. He – it inferred that history was changed. People were killed in order to do Hydra’s bidding.”

Tony runs his hands through his still wet hair. This cannot be happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Tony,” Steve says and tentatively reaches over to grasp his hand. “Tony, Hydra had your parents killed. They didn’t die in an auto accident, and it’s very likely that the Winter Soldier was responsible.”

The words disintegrate around him like embers from a fire – embers that spark and flicker until transforming into a conflagration, a full out war of pain and suffering. Yet, instead the embers – red and hot – blacken and die out. Tony shudders. “Is that what you have to tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I’ve known for a long time. I wanted to try and clear Bucky’s name before I brought it to you. But it’s obvious I can’t. Under the influence and control of Hydra Bucky as the Winter Soldier did this. I’m so sorry.” Steve squeezes Tony’s hand. “I should have come to you sooner. Natasha wanted me to, but I thought Sam and I could find him and help him first.”

Tony slips his hand away from Steve’s and moves off the stool. He curls his hands into the hoodie pockets and says, “I know.”

“What?” Steve screws up his face as if he’s trying to compute a quadratic equation in his head (which granted Tony can do, but most people can’t). “I don’t understand. You know?”

“You remember when I hacked SHIELD all those years ago?” Tony says and chews a bit on his lower lip. He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer. He paces the length of the kitchen island. “Well, it kind of took a backseat for years after the whole Mandarin that wasn’t thing. I focused on my relationship with Pepper, but then me, being me, I couldn’t leave well enough alone when you, being you, went ahead and, you know, damaged D.C. and destroyed SHIELD in the process. Well, when that happened, I started to look into things, because I knew Howard, my dad, had dealings with SHIELD. He and your Peggy set SHIELD up after all.” He takes a deep breath. “Long story short, I found out about it and didn’t know how to tell you that your buddy was implicated in some pretty nasty stuff, including the death of my parents.”

Steve stumbles out of the chair. “I thought you didn’t know. I thought you would hate me. All this time, I thought. There were days I couldn’t even look at you. It was eating a hole in me. When I watched The Empire Strikes Back, that’s all I could think of – how I betrayed you. How everything was a lie.”

“God, Steve, no.” A chill of loneliness crawls up Tony’s spine. There were too many bad people in Tony’s life for him to believe that Steve acted with malice. He swallows the hard pain that’s welling in him. “I wanted to protect you from what I learned – how your friend killed-.” And then his voice breaks, and he barely gets out the word mother before a sob cracks and chokes him.

Steve crosses the short distance between them and gathers Tony in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could have done. If I’d gone back and looked for Bucky – If I had known, he survived the fall. I should have known. It’s my fault.” 

Tony buries his head against Steve’s shoulder near his neck. He knows he doesn’t deserve this piece of serenity, this tiny bit of his dream. But he closes his eyes and holds on, embraces Steve and hopes he’ll be able to go back to what they were just moments ago. Yet, Steve holds him, doesn’t refuse him, doesn’t push him away. In turn, he lightly touches his lips to the crown of Tony’s head – as if to kiss him to offer him some solace. 

Into Steve’s shoulder, Tony whispers, “I’m sorry, too. I hacked SHIELD years ago, I could have found out about Hydra. I didn’t look deep enough and then when the huge data dump happened, I got curious. I found out about Barnes and never said a word.”

Steve extricates Tony from him but grasps each of his shoulders. “You have nothing to be sorry about Tony. To know something so terrible and to have to deal with it on your own, I don’t know how you did it.”

The truth of how he always shuts away the pain bubbles to the surface, yet he still braces against it. “Years of practice.” It’s all he has to say for Steve to wilt a little.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with it on your own. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Tony grips his arms. “You do realize why I kept the secret, right? Barnes did horrific things. I know how much he means to you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to emotionally collapse. His face long since gone pale, turns as white as a sheet. “I have to believe that he did it under the control of Hydra. He didn’t have a choice. He must have been brainwashed. I saw him not even know me, Tony. I saw it.”

Tony holds onto Steve as if they’re on a spinning ride at an amusement park. He’s not going to let go. Not now. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

Something brightens in Steve’s features, his eyes are bright and shining. “We’ll? We?”

Tony smiles. “Of course, we. As long as we can get our shit together and stop hiding crap from one another. I think we can do pretty good together.”

That warms Steve’s expression and brings color back to his cheeks. “That sounds like a plan.”

“And who else is a good judge of plans, but Captain America,” Tony says.

Before Steve finishes rolling his eyes, the timer rings on the fresh bread in the oven. “Oh I almost forgot. The bread and stew!” 

He moves to the kitchen and Tony tries not to think about how much he misses those big hands on him. That’s one secret that’s not getting out anytime soon even with a promise. 

As Steve finishes testing the stew, he looks up from his spoon and says, “Do you want to start a fire. We can sit in the living room and eat, maybe?” Tony looks at the stone fireplace with the big fake fur rug in front of it. As if completely innocent, Steve ladles the stew into the big stoneware bowls as he says, “Right in front of the fire. It would almost be like we were camping out.”

Or having a romantic dinner, Tony thinks. “Hmm?”

“Only if you want to?” Steve opens the oven and brings out the three loaves of bread he’s made. He doesn’t look at Tony again. He busies himself with the dinner preparations. “I just thought with the storm still raging, it might be nice to have to feel of the fire close.”

“Thought you said you don’t mind the cold,” Tony says and hesitates to start the fire.

“I’ve no problem with cold weather. It’s nasty out there.”

Tony shrugs and can’t think of a reason not to have dinner in front of the fire that wouldn’t point out his crush. “Okay.” He heads over to the fireplace and restarts the fire; first by cleaning up the ashes from earlier and then by stacking and arranging the kindling. The fire flares and spits a little as Tony moves the logs around in the hearth. 

“Oh, it looks so cozy!” 

Tony might have swallowed his tongue. Captain America just used the word cozy. Has he stepped into an alternative reality? “Are you okay?” He gulps back the words – he hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

Steve beams at him. “I know what happened, what we just confessed to one another is game changing, but Tony I am so glad you see me as someone you want to protect like I see you.”

The realization dawns on Tony. It’s true. He’d wanted to protect Steve from the awful truth of what Barnes had done. Knowing that someone you trusted and loved as a family member would do such hideous things struck close to Tony’s heart. He’d automatically wanted to save the pain from hurting Steve as well. The stark revelation heals a small part of him inside, that part that suffered so much when he learned that his mother had not died from an accidental auto accident but had been murdered. A small bit of his pain recedes.

He searches around and finds a large round metal pizza sheet. They can use it on the rug to put their stew and bread. He collects napkins and spoons to set out on the tiny improvised tray table. After looking at his work, he spots what’s missing. “What would you like to drink?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “I saw some wine. It’s white so it really doesn’t go with the beef stew.”

“Posh, who cares!”

“Now who’s a plebeian?” Steve chuckles as he carries the bowls of steaming stew to the fireplace. He doesn’t question the pizza pan turned table. He returns to bring the bread, butter, and salt with pepper. “I usually don’t salt too much as I cook. I like people to decide for themselves.”

As Tony settles on the floor, he clasps his hands together and remarks, “Well it smells amazing. How can you not like the smell of baked bread?” 

“I hope the stew is good. It’s my mother’s recipe,” Steve says and cups his bowl with his large hand. “This is nice. The fire. The wind is terrible out, but I think it stopped snowing.”

“How can you tell?” Tony smirks and tastes the stew. It’s divine. “Do you miss her? Your mom, I mean?”

“It’s been a long time. She’d been gone a few years before I joined up. But I still miss her.” He puts the bowl down and tears off a large end of the bread. It steams in his hands as he butters it. “She’s the one who told me never to stand down. Always get back up.”

“She was special.”

“Yeah.” Steve gets quiet for a moment as he dips the bread into his stew. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother, Tony. It has to be painful.”

Tony nods. “It is.” Steve had given him a loaf of his own to eat. He takes the end off and splits it, letting the heat warm his hands. “She didn’t have a happy life. My dad was a shit to her. But when she got older, she took the bull by the horns and forced Howard to behave. It was better, for her, then. At least he wasn’t looking for you anymore.”

“Boy I really screwed up your life in more ways than one.” 

Tony shakes his head. “That was all Howard. And the other – well that was all Hydra. I don’t think you can take responsibility for either of their actions.”

“I don’t get Howard. Yeah, he was a cad when I knew him, but he turned into such a-.” Steve stops like he’s at a loss for words.

“A dick? Yeah, he was you can say it.” Tony inhales, holds it, and then confesses, “You know what hurts the most about his death? I was actually a little relieved when he died. Like he’d been such an a-hole to me. I’d just come out as bi and he went ballistic. Told me thanks for ruining Christmas you little shit.”

“Huh,” Steve says and furrows his brow.

“What? That’s a weird reaction?” The bread is a level of heaven Tony never thought he’d obtain.

“Howard – well, let’s just say, he kind of – he propositioned me.” Steve’s cheeks turn bright red and it’s not from the heat of the fire.

“Really? You are fucking with me now!” 

Steve finishes his first loaf and bowl of stew. He goes back to the kitchen for more as he speaks, “No. I’m not. He propositioned me. Kissed me and stuck his hand down my pants.”

“Holy shit! Tell me you decked him. Please tell me you decked him,” Tony says not even considering the idea that Howard hated him for his sexuality.

“No. He did it when I was still – you know – not like this.” Steve gracefully sits back down with a new loaf of bread and another bowl of stew. “Before you ask, I told him I wasn’t interested and skedaddled out of the lab.”

“Skedaddled. I suppose that’s the technical term,” Tony says, not looking at Steve. He doesn’t want to see the condemnation about his sexuality in Steve’s eyes. His father’s was more than enough for a lifetime.

“Maybe. I went to see Doctor Erskine. It was close to when we were going to preform Project Rebirth. I’d just been selected and met the team – your father was one of them. It wasn’t the first time I saw him, but it was the first time I met Howard. He intimidated the shit out of me.” Steve bites into the loaf of bread. “I went to see the doctor to talk to him about Rebirth and to figure some things out.”

“Whether you would be turned into a tomato faced skull?” Tony asks. He needs to joke now because the pit in his stomach grows. 

Steve gives him a toothy grin. “No. We didn’t know that about Schmidt just yet, though maybe Erskine did.” He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. I was worried about other things.”

“Seriously, you weren’t worried that it would mutate you or kill you?” Tony scrapes the bottom of the bowl with his spoon, not realizing that he consumed the stew in record time. “This was really good.”

“Want more?” Steve start to climb to his feet but Tony stops him.

“Nah. I’m good. I want to eat bread and drink wine.”

Steve settles back, content. “And no, for some reason, I didn’t really worry about the project. I saw it as the possibility of curing me more than anything else. I walked around with a heart issue, a lung issue. All kinds of allergies. There was diabetes in my family so I was worried that would become a reality. Every winter could have been my last.” 

“Rebirth was definitely a rebirth for you,” Tony says. “So, what were you running to Erskine for? Going to tattle tale on good old Howard’s perversion?”

The fire cracks and pops drawing Steve’s attention away from him. The orange flames flicker in his too blue eyes. He speaks lowly, hushed as if in reverence to his memories. “He was a kind man, a gentle man. He listened to me, respected me. He treated me like an equal when so many didn’t. They only saw me as a weakling.” He looks down at his hands. “I always had big hands, you know. My mother said some day I would grow big enough to fit into my hands.” He clears his throat and the memories fade from his features. “What was I saying?”

“You were telling me how you were reporting Howard to Erskine.”

“No. No I wasn’t. I was reporting myself,” Steve says. His eyes tear. Tony gulps for air but can’t gather his thoughts to reply. Steve doesn’t seem to notice. “I wanted him to know, before he started all the pre-experiment research and testing. I wanted him to know who I was. That maybe he was picking the wrong person.”

Tony exhales. Self-doubt – that’s all it was.

“When I told him, when I told him about the kiss – I never said it was Howard. I told him how I -.” Steve looks up as if he wants to examine the freakishly stuffed goose above the hearth. He drops his gaze down again, almost immediately. A tear finds its way loose and stains his cheek. “I told him what I was. That there was something wrong with me. Sure, I liked Peggy. Sure, I dreamed of wanting to marry her someday. But I really wanted, what I really wanted I couldn’t have.”

Tony reaches out because his brain is scattered and confused; that rarely, if ever, happens to him. He touches Steve’s wrist. “Steve, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say to me.”

Steve lifts his gaze and states, “I told him I was a homosexual and wanted to resign from the project.” 

“I don’t-.” Tony stops and his brain stutters over the statement. Only one thing pops into his head and he blurts it out as he yanks his hand away from Steve. “Did you fuck my dad? Christ, you fucked Howard!”

Steve grimaces. “No. Of course not. I never even- ever again with him. No!” 

Tony rubs at his forehead – at least a headache of epic proportions won’t plague him because of _that_ possibility. “So, you – told him you’d resign?”

“Yes. I didn’t want him to find out and then realize that was the reason the project failed. He was kind, quiet. He never said anything about it, only had me promise not to act on it. Ever. And to this day, I’ve kept my promise.” He shoves in a large chunk of bread, chewing the monster with exaggerated care.

What? Why?” None of it makes sense.

He tries to swallow but there’s too much, so he takes an inelegant swig of the wine, coughs, and says, “Because I made a promise.”

“To a dead man over 70 years ago. You mean you never ever-.”

“No. Not ever.”

The enormity hits Tony like a plasma laser to the chest. “Steve, no. No, why have you denied yourself? All this time. Surely, Doctor Erskine couldn’t have foreseen everything that’s happened in the world. Wouldn’t he have been open to new things, learning new thoughts on the subject?” 

Steve stacks his dishes and picks up the butter dish. Rising to his feet, he carries it to the kitchen. “I don’t know. I kept my promise.”

“By denying yourself. By not finding love?” Tony forgets his bowl and wine glass. He forgets the delicious bread. “All this time, you’ve been alone.”

“I loved Peggy. That was enough.” Steve says with a visible swallow as if it hurts. The muscle along the line of his jaw tenses.

“In a purely chaste way. Tell me I’m wrong. And remember we promised not to lie or hold back the truth from one another. Go on tell me I’m wrong.” He has both hands on the counter he’s leaning into the space.

“Maybe I’m just like you. Bi.”

“No!” Tony says and rounds the counter. “No! You said homosexual. You didn’t say bisexual.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. It’s visibly trembling. “They did have those words back then and if they did I didn’t know them. All I knew was that – so that’s what I used. That’s all.” He cuts off Tony. “I loved Peggy.”

Not six inches apart, Tony glares at Steve – witnesses him slowly falling apart. “I’m not denying that, not for a minute.” He grasps Steve’s one hand. “Not for a single minute. But when you kissed her you didn’t feel lust, or hunger, or desire, or passion. It was a platonic love. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me!”

Steve jerks his hand away from Tony. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you care?” His voice is loud, threatening to break.

The wildness in Steve’s eyes like a prey animal knowing full well he’s trapped by a predator triggers Tony to act. Even if he’d wanted to stop himself, there would be no way in hell he could have. He leaps forward, grabs Steve’s shirt, and yanks him close enough to plant his lips on his mouth. For a moment, there’s no response at all. The shock overwhelms both of them – Steve too surprised to move, Tony too terrified to act. They stand there, frozen by fear and disbelief. 

Finally, courage swells through Tony and he slips one hand up to cup the back of Steve’s head and angle him more comfortable. He prods a little and suddenly, Steve opens his mouth and there’s a little moan, so quiet, so hushed that Tony barely registers it. It’s enough to urge him on, to buoy his hopes and he tastes and explores with more enthusiasm and less fear. Steve isn’t an active participate – Tony wouldn’t classify it that way at all. More of an interested bystander in his own life, but then he jolts in Tony’s arms and pulls away. He looks down and rubs at his mouth as if to clean away the foulness of the kiss.

“You Stark men always take what you want, don’t you?” Steve shoves past Tony and rushes up the stairs. Standing stock still, Tony goes blank, his mind a white space of confusion. 

No. Tony’s not like his father. Howard commanded a room, yes much like Tony. Howard commanded by force, Tony never did. He always used his wiles and his charm, and his intelligence to gain the favor of people. But then again, nothing in what Steve and Tony did or said over the last two days indicated that Steve was the least bit interested in him. He’d overshot, he’d taken what he wanted. He acted like his father. He gasps and clamps a hand over his mouth. That wasn’t his intention. Never. He hadn’t wanted that. He wanted Steve to know, to understand. He wanted Steve to want him. 

Like his father.


	2. Chapter 2

The cabin is eerily silent, except for the howling winds of the storm outside. Tony stands frozen as if the frigid temperatures solidified him. Thoughts barely formulate in his head, the cold creeps and slithers through him. He’d been only inches (centimeters he corrects himself) away from the love affair of his life and he ruined it. He deserves to break apart like ice on the top of a lake, cracking and splitting. 

He finds tears streaming down his face. It motivates him to move, to crash through the pain binding him in the cold. Tony blinks away the tears and then has his phone in his hand before he can stop himself. He has connected to a number with the phone at his ear.

“Don’t tell me that you killed one another already. It’s only been two days.”

He moves and the ice fissures. Tony taps his forehead. “Nat. I really screwed up. I really, really screwed up.”

“Well, this is different.”

“Yeah, I know.” He bites at his cuticle.

She snickers. “I’m not talking about whether or not you screwed up. I’m talking about the fact you called me and not Rhodes or Pepper.”

“Yeah, I know.” He has no idea why he called her. “Maybe because you know him better than they do.”

“Okay, what happened? Was it the whole everything special about you came out of the bottle trick again or something else?” Natasha asks. 

“Something else.” He sits onto one of the stools, staring at the messy kitchen. He should clean it. But the cold captures him, keeps him its prisoner.

“You’re going to have to tell me a little more than that.”

“I kissed him.”

“Interesting.”

“This isn’t helping.” He buries his head in his folded arms. Maybe he should just go outside and let the cold eat away at his flesh. Let the blizzard winds take him.

“Well, you aren’t telling me much. So, I’m going to tell you what happened. At some point or another you probably discussed Barnes. I know this because Steve told me he was going to broach the subject with you. You, on the other hand, probably already knew the awful truth because you’re too damned curious and hacked SHIELD ages ago. Plus, the big data dump would have been too rich for you to ignore. How am I doing so far?”

He’s amazed but he’s not saying that. “You’re close.”

She huffs a little before she continues. “At some point along the way, Steve probably came out of the closet. He’s been dying to, though he’s never done it before. He came close a few times with me, but not close enough to actually tell me. A hundred year old virgin has a hard time dealing with these things.”

“Okay.”

“I got that one? Great. Now you – you’re hot for Captain America – everyone on Earth knows that and probably a few other planets too. Let me amend that – everyone in the known universe, except for Captain America himself. So, you probably made a move on him and he ran scared.” She’s excellent at profiling. Scary accurate in fact. “How’s that?”

The fact she’s laid it out like background for a battleplan, actually helps thaw his brain a little. “It’s a little more complicated. Apparently, Howard, my dad, made a move on Steve back in the day-.”

“Ew! Don’t tell me Steve slept with him.”

“No! Of course not! In fact, Steve made a promise never to act on his quote unquote homosexual tendencies to Doctor Erskine. So, he hasn’t.” He breathes out through his mouth and then says as quickly as possible, “I did. I did exactly what you said, and he ran scared. Accusing me of taking what I wanted like my father.” Tony groans and closes his eyes. “What do I do, Nat?”

“Apologize.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get.” He picks his head up and everything hurts. His brain pounds. He hears the screech of the storm and shivers.

“Apologize and tell him you’ll respect his vow. He’s a man of his word, Tony. You know that. It’s one of the things that makes him _the_ Captain America.” 

She’s right, of course. The idea of pledging to respect Steve’s promise is ludicrous. The man deserves some happiness, if not with Tony then with someone else. Yet, if Steve hadn’t been so distraught, so focused on his promise because he’s a man of his word, would Tony still want him, still secretly love him? “What if he’s just disgusted with me because of my father?”

“Then you need to apologize to him for that as well. Tony, I know this must have been hard for you to call me.”

“You’re one of Steve’s closest friends, Nat, who else would I call?”

She sighs a little. “What I mean is this – Steve’s fragile right now. The whole Barnes thing ate him up. He’s not like me, he’s not used to holding his secrets for the greater good. But he’s held this one about himself, because he’s always believed it was for the greater good-.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Not from where he’s coming from. You have to let him have this Tony. You’re not going to want to breakdown that wall unless you’re there to commit to picking up the pieces.”

He sits up and it takes all his energy and strength to accept what she’s said. “Okay. I get it.”

“Are you okay?”

He thinks he’s broken and will always be broken, but he thinks she already knows that – after all Natasha seems to know everything. The cold is outside, not inside and he can function again. “Yeah. I will be.”

“Okay,” she says lowly. “Listen, the storm looks like it should end in the next twelve hours or so. Might be hassle to get to you for a while. Hopefully, you’ll be okay.”

“We will be,” Tony says, committing to it. 

With a wish of good luck, she disconnects. Tony sits quietly at the kitchen island, staring across the empty space to the fire that still happily burns. His shoulders sag and he decides first he’ll show some initiative and clean the kitchen. During the past two days, Steve has been the most domestic of them. It takes a while to clean since he doesn’t know where everything is or goes. But he gets it done and feels accomplished for it. 

“Time to face the music.” He climbs the stairs and crosses over to Steve’s room. Knocking, he calls, “Steve? Steve, can I come in?”

Silence greets him, but then Steve agrees. “Yes.”

When Tony opens the door, he sees Steve standing by a messy bed. His face is flush and his eyes red. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Steve rushes headlong first into an apology. “I shouldn’t have compared you to your father, I’m sorry.”

Tony grunts nearly growling. “No! You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to apologize this time. I’m apologizing. I read the situation wrong and I took advantage of it and your vulnerability. I’m sorry. Now don’t apologize again. Well, not about this at least. But thank you for not comparing me to my father, but no apologizing.”

Taken aback, Steve replies, “Okay. Sure. I just -.”

“No, I just. It was wrong. You made a vow, a promise to someone who was very important to you. My thoughts about that, my ideas are mine and should only be shared if you ask.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve narrows his eyes and tilts his head as if he teasing apart a puzzle. “What about if I’m about to fall into some subversive culture. What if I’m about to eat up all those conspiracy theories out there?”

“Fuck, I mean I’m just here to apologize, not to have a philosophical discussion about when and if I should try and convince you that you’re wrong. I mean I know you are and all.” Tony babbles, and he wants to shut the fuck up but his mind races beyond his control. “But that’s maybe not my business. You have your principles and that’s important. Not only for you, but the whole damned world that you put on your shoulders! Principles that are out of date, but I can’t – I can’t force you to think a different way.” Tony runs both hands through his hair and then glowers at Steve. “You know, Natasha didn’t say anything about you not accepting my apologize. She made it seem like it would be easy.” He cringes. 

“Natasha?” Steve says and his face colors hot red. “You told Natasha?”

“Oh shit!” Tony closes his eyes and bows his head. He can’t stop himself from digging his own grave. 

“You told Natasha? What did you say? What did you – did you tell her what I told you? Does she know?” Steve’s nearly frantic now. 

“Not because I told her. She already knew. She’s Natasha after all.” He hopes that’s enough to satisfy Steve. He doesn’t want to be blamed for Natasha’s keen sense of knowing every little detail of everyone’s lives.

“Of course,” Steve says and then deflates – like the anger burnt out and he’s left with not even an ember. He turns away from Tony, head hanging. “Thanks. For everything. I mean. Thanks.”

“No,” Tony says and reaches out to catch Steve’s wrist. He tugs him to turn and look at him. “Steve, I’m sorry if I did something you didn’t want. I am. I’m sorry that Natasha knows. But I’m very sorry that you want to deny yourself something that could bring you endless joy and bring you love.”

Steve smiles wryly. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for me, Tony.”

“Love and happiness. Really? I mean if anyone should be cynical it should be me. But you grew up with happily ever after. I grew up with something is only cool if the main character that you love dies or turns out to be the bad guy.” Tony shakes his head. “No, if anyone’s going to be the pessimist about this, it should be me.”

“I thought you said cynic.” 

“Don’t get technical on me Rogers.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Now you want to explain to me why you don’t think you deserve love and happiness?”

Steve avoids looking him in the eyes. Instead, he stares at the bed. “I think I’d like to go to sleep actually. If you don’t mind?”

It’s early and Captain America is so emotionally spent, he wants to sleep. Tony knows some people deal with their depression and anxiety by sleeping so he steps away, losing his grip on Steve’s hand. “Okay. Good night.”

It hurts when he leaves the room. It hurts when he sits in his own room listening to the winds howl and rattle. It hurts in the dark.

When Tony wakes up his eyes ache and he rolls over onto his stomach, realizing he never got out of his clothes. His teeth feel like they have a layer of guck on them. He groans and makes it to his feet, heading to his small ensuite. He sloughs off his clothes and gets into the small shower. The routine of the shower not only serves to wake him up but also allows him some perspective. Steve’s dealing with Barnes’ situation and his own sexuality on top of living a life he never planned. Sure, it’s been years since he thawed out, but everything keeps changing for him. That can’t be easily. Tony knows for a fact it isn’t. Maybe give him a break?

He finishes up and is surprised at how refreshed he feels. He dries and picks up his clothes, stuffing them in the corner of the closet. He should remember to bring a bag or something for dirty clothes. He’s too used to having servants picking up after him. It only takes him a minute to get dressed – same as yesterday. Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. He heads downstairs with only his heart rapping at his chest a little bit.

Immediately when he leaves his room, Tony smells the distinct aroma of breakfast. Once again, Steve beat him to the kitchen and has breakfast started. Today it’s stacks of pancakes, cut up fruit, and more bacon. The man is a bacon fiend. 

Steve spots him and grins; yesterday apparently a nightmare that is to be forgotten. Those 1940s men like to be stoic and bury their feelings. Tony doesn’t know whether to be pissed or pleased. He opts for the latter. Might as well go with the flow. He smiles at his roomie and claps his hands.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Cap?” Going with the more formal moniker but with a casual flare might help thaw things between them as well. 

“Well, the roads and airports are still closed. But the good news is.” He flips a pancake. “We have a pristine hill out back and we can go sledding.” 

Tony coughs and chokes a little. “Sledding? We – go sledding? How? There’s no.” He spins around. “There’s no sleds here.” Sledding will be the death of him. He’s sure. “Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but we cannot sled.”

Steve ignores the endearment -which Tony’s grateful for since it slipped out. “Well, no need to worry. I brought my shield. We can go sledding on that.” He beams.

What new hell is this? He seizes on an idea. “You didn’t bring your shield. We weren’t allowed to bring our stuff, our Avengers’ stuff.” His armor sits idle, many many miles away.

“Ah!” Steve finishes the pancakes and the bacon, setting the plates. “Technically I didn’t bring it. I shipped it via the US Postal System.”

“What the fuck? You have got to be kidding me. The Post Office? You sent that precious shield that my father made through the US Post Office and you trusted them?” Tony staggers to his seat. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Steve brandishes the spatula. “Nope. Sent it last Wednesday. Arrived just before we got here. Since I was the first one to get here, I made sure of that by the way, I tucked in the laundry room behind the dryer.”

“You sneaky little shit.”

At that Steve beams even brighter. “Yep!”

“How could you trust the Post Office?”

“What?” Steve sets out the jam, the syrup, and butter. “The Post Office is an essential service. And if anyone tells you different, they are full of beans. Plus, it’s loads cheaper than any of the corporate services.” He digs into his plate of pancakes and bacon. He’s actually layered the bacon in between the six pancakes.

“It’s your shield! You love that like a baby!” Tony needs to clean out his ears, because he cannot fathom what he’s hearing.

“They weren’t going to lose it. I went in uniform to send it.”

“You are a devil, you know that? You are one of Satan’s spawn.”

Steve winks at him and continues to eat like yesterday never happened and like he thinks of Tony as a conspiring friend. “So, what do you think? Sledding? But maybe we should try to get into town and help with the clean-up. I’m sure I can find a shovel here somewhere. In the garage?”

Back breaking shoveling all the way to town sounds like loads of fun. “I’d rather break my neck sledding.”

Steve pounds on the table, much like Thor. “Then sledding it is!”

His enthusiasm reeks of over the top and Tony side eyes Steve as he tries to figure out what’s really going on. “Well, still no can do. It’s not like I brought the correct clothes to go sledding.”

“Don’t worry I thought of that, too.”

“Why do I think this is a conspiracy against me. Are you and Nat sure you’re not super evil villains?”

Steve snickers at him, but it sounds like he’s half hiccupping. It definitely teeters on being forced. Tony recognizes Steve’s effort to put yesterday behind them. 

“Okay, I’ll take your lousy excuse for a team building exercise and do it as long as you promise that the next time you decide to jump off a building, you radio for help first. Sam, Rhodey, and I can’t always be there if you don’t tell us!” It’s one of Tony’s worst fears, that one day they will miss Steve. He didn’t include Thor in the list because they never knew when Thor was going to be around.

Steve considers him as if this is a hard deal to make. “Only if you tell me the real secret you’ve been hiding.”

“Posh. You can’t do that. Plus, I have no secrets. I’m an open book. Look on the internet. You can see and read everything about me. And I mean everything.”

Suddenly, Steve finds his breakfast fascinating. “Yeah. I know. I saw.” With that pronouncement he falls silent. 

Tony decides it’s best not to tease him too much. He eats but then notices something is missing. “Where’s the coffee?”

Steve points with his fork over at the dismantled coffee machine. “It’s broken. Maybe you can take a look.”

“Good god, this is an emergency. Why didn’t you say something?” Tony leaps off his stool and rushes around the island to the disgraced Keurig machine. “You poor baby, did mean Captain America not treat you right?”

Steve rolls his eyes and says with a full mouth, “I tried to clean it. It didn’t go well.”

“Obviously,” Tony agrees. He tinkers with it for a few minutes as Steve completes his task of engulfing the rest of his pancake-bacon sandwiches that are drown in syrup. As Tony works he asks, “Ever get tired to eating so much?”

“Hmm,” Steve says. “I don’t know if tired is the word for it. I would say it’s more like chasing away the ever gnawing emptiness. I don’t think the scientists or doctors get how my metabolism works. It took me quite a while to get used to it. For the longest time, the nights were the worst. I finally learned to eat right before bed, and then bring snacks to bed with me.”

Tony furrows his brow. “But you haven’t done that here.”

“I have food in my room. It’s a necessity. The worse thing any adversary has ever learned about me is how easy it is to starve me.” Steve forks the rest of the pancakes from the platter and puts them on his plate. “Do you think you can fix it?”

“Hmm?” Distracted by the casual reference to being starved, Tony needs a second to right himself to the task at hand. “Looks like a clog. I can get it cleaned out in no time.”

“Good, because I like my coffee, too.” He stands and gathers the empty dishes. 

He cleans the kitchen while Tony fixes the coffee machine. It feels horribly domestic and part of Tony withers inside because he knows he can never have this with Steve. He bites back his tongue. Grilling Steve about his vow and his wants isn’t the way to go. Tony glimpses him every now and again, and Steve’s focused, on task, and solitary. He wonders how lonely he feels at night.

“Still hard?”

“What’s that?” Steve says as he dries a plate.

“Is it still hard to be here in this century?” Tony starts to put the Keurig back together. He needs his hands busy, maybe it will ensure his mouth doesn’t go overboard.

“Sometimes. I’ve gotten used to some of the conveniences. Like the internet. Streaming. All of it.”

Tony puts down the tubing. “No. Tell me really. You say the same thing to everyone who asks you. I’ve heard that answer a thousand times on talk shows and news interviews. What’s the real answer?”

Steve huffs out a breath and considers Tony. “What do you want me to tell you, Tony? It’s an empty gap in me that’s worse than feeling hungry all the damned time. I know, I know for a fact that things are better here. Technological advances are amazing, and the civil rights advances more amazing. I agree with it all – but.” He pauses for a second and then says, “I know things are better now. I know it. I miss my hometown… I miss the bakery that used to be at end of my street. I miss Mrs. Thomason and her broom that she scattered the pigeons with every day. I miss the way apples tasted. I miss the real bananas. I miss my friends. I miss the Howling Commandoes. I miss the pace of life back then. Nothing was so fast. Because it couldn’t be.” He stops, spent and sighs. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Tony says.

“No. It’s fine. I’m just not used to talking about it. I only talk with Sam and Nat sometimes, but most of the time I keep it inside.” 

“I know something about that.”

“I thought you just told me you are an open book.”

Tony chuckles. “What can I say I’m a paradox. An enigma. An oxymoron all rolled into one.”

“You could never be anything with the word moron in it, Tony. Never.” 

“Well, you know what I mean,” Tony says and finishes the repair. “Now I declare it’s time for our morning coffee!” 

Without pause Steve gets the mugs for the coffee and fishes out the creamer from the refrigerator. They work in unison much like they do during battles. Without words, without signals, they are in sync. It hits to the heart of matters. In his bones he appreciates it, the knowledge. They go together. Lock and key. 

Both of them sip freshly brewed coffee, leaning against the counter in the kitchen area. Tony knows a little bit of heaven as he drinks the coffee and Steve’s satisfied look. He could come to love that look, crave it, want to settle it on Steve’s face all the time. But then again, Tony tends to want things he cannot have. For a billionaire he really is a pauper in some aspects of life. 

“Well, finish off. I’m going to get your snow pants and parka.”

“Snow pants?” Tony gulps. “Why does that sound like I’m a toddler.”

Steve sniggers. “Maybe because you are – a little.” He races away, digging through the main closet under the stairs – where Tony never searched during his tour of their abode. “Here we go!” It’s red and gold and will fit Tony like a glove. He already knows. “What do you think?” Steve shows it off like he’s a proud father. 

The sleek design, the colors mimic his Iron Man armor – it’s everything that Tony would have desired in a skiing outfit. His mouth goes dry. “I-mm- I like it. Yes, I do.”

“Well, get dressed. I’m going to get mine on.”

“Wait, what? You have one?” Tony asks and the stunned feeling radiates upward numbing him from his toes to the crown of his head.

“Yep.” Steve hurries up the stairs and Tony can do nothing but follow. 

“This is not going to end well,” Tony mutters.

“I heard that!” Steve yells from his room.

Silently, he curses super soldier hearing and ends up in his room trying on the outfit. It’s not bulky at all like he would imagine most winter weather clothes. Instead, it feels the way it looks. Sleek, trim, almost like what speed skiers wear in the Olympics. He assesses himself in the full length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. He likes the way his ass looks. 

“Nice.”

“Tony?” 

He jerks around to find Steve standing in the hallway right outside his door. “Hmm. Yeah?”

His outfit mimics his colors, red, white, and blue. But it reminds Tony of that uniform Steve had when the Chitauri and Loki attacked. Steve lifts his shield. “Let’s go sledding.” 

Tony pulls on the boots that came with the whole getup and snaps on the gloves. “You know this is ridiculous. We can’t both fit on that thing.”

“You leave that to me.” He strides down the stairs like Tony issued a challenge. 

Son of a bitch. Tony knows Steve’s going to figure it out; he’s a master strategist after all. It’s in his nature. Everything special about him came out of a bottle is a lot of bullshit. This is purely skinny Rogers taking on the billionaire playboy with every fiber of his being thrown behind the task. 

“You know this isn’t a battle, right? We’re just going out to have some fun. Or what you think is fun, what I think is purely suicidal tendencies.” Tony jogs downstairs to find Steve unlocking the sliding glass doors to the deck. There has to be at least two feet of snow piled on the deck. “No! It will all fall into the house!” 

Steve listens and stops on time to avert a calamity. “Right! Let’s go out the door to the laundry room.” 

Tony sighs and hangs his head. “There’s no stopping you, is there?”

“Nope.” Steve takes the lead. “Might as well just follow along. It’s much easier that way.”

“That is not one of those awe inspiring speeches that Wilson is always talking about,” Tony says as Steve unlocks the laundry room door to the garage and the outside.

“What can I tell you, I’m off the clock,” Steve smirks at Tony. “Come on, we’re going to have fun and you’re going to like it.”

“Why do you sound like my mother when she forced me to go to Disneyland?” Tony stomps behind Steve into the two plus feet of snow. The drifts make it hard to measure.

“What kid hates Disneyland?” Steve plows ahead, making it infinitely easier for Tony as long as he stays in the same path.

“I was in my rebellious phase.” There’s no wind to speak of and the snow is perfectly white, silent, and overwhelmingly bright.

“Teenager?” Steve asks.

“Ah! No. I was five.”

“So, in other words you’ve been in your rebellious phase all your life.” Steve peers over his shoulder and there’s something cocky, almost swaggering about his expression. He’s teasing Tony to say something out of line. 

Tony opts to mutter, “You could say that.” He refuses the bait – well as long as he can.

They trudge up the hill. It’s not a long incline to the other side of the yard, but the piles of snow and the weight of it makes it a workout nonetheless. By the time they get to the top, Tony wants to strip. He’s sweating.

“I’m so fucking hot.” He yanks down his hood. Puffs of fog gather around him as he speaks. 

Steve ignores his complaint and moves on to his plan. “I figure we can go down the south portion of the hill. It’s not too lumpy from what I can see and it’s steep enough that we can pick up some great speed. Plus, it’s away from the tree line so that we won’t crack our heads open with a collision.”

“Great, you thought of everything,” Tony says derisively.

Steve glowers at Tony. “We’re having fun.”

“I could be drinking a coffee.”

“That’s never going to be as fun as this. Or as satisfying.” Tony catches his remark before it leaves his tongue. Inwardly he’s proud of himself, but only grimaces at Steve who simply claps him on the back and says, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Tony bites back the words again and grumbles a fuck you at Steve. He simply ignores Tony’s protests. “After you.”

Now, Tony knows full well that Captain America is a contortionist since he can squeeze that whole 6’2” frame and fold it up to hide behind a small circular disc. But even he can’t break that many laws of physics. 

Flipping the shield upside down onto the newly fallen snow, Steve winks at him. The silver star on his chest shines in the brilliant sunlight. He yanks up his hood, which is similar in style to his helmet, and smiles at Tony. “Watch this.”

To fit on the shield, Steve bends his knees and squishes onto it, with his hands clasped onto the handles. The shield, remarkably, does not sink into the snow and with a slight push off he hurtles down the slope with speed and a whoop call of exhilaration. Controlling the shield is impossible even with the handles to steer. Steve races down the hill and then tries to bank but ends up flipping over and rolling the rest of the way down. He jumps up and catches the shield as it slides down after him. He screams a yell of triumph, for what, Tony does not know. 

He waves excitedly, heaves up the shield and carries it back up the hill. 

“See,” Tony says to no one. “That’s why sledding sucks. You spend most of your time climbing up the hill to get three seconds of thrill time. Give me the armor any day of the week.” 

Steve barely pants as he crests the hill. His cheeks are blush red and his eyes dazzling blue. He grins at Tony. “Now you can try.”

“Not sure I want to. Would rather have the armor.” He tucks his hands under his armpits, through truth be told the getup he’s wearing is surprisingly comfortable and warm.

“Come on, you’ll love it. I swear! I always wanted to sled as a kid, but lord only knows I was sick every single winter. Even the tiny hill in the park where Buck and Arnie used to go, I never made it. Never once. Come on, please!” He gives Tony a pathetic and very manipulative expression.

Never let it be said that Captain America isn’t an underhanded sneak. “Okay, okay.” 

Steve sets down the shield and gestures like it’s the crown jewels – and to him it probably is. “I’ll hold her, and you climb on.”

He mutters under his breath about a 100 year old virgin and then – very clumsily – manages to get onto the shield. 

Steve leans in close behind Tony and says, “Hold onto the handles. It will help you steer.” 

“I doubt that.” Tony grips the handles like his life depends on it – it just might.

“Ready?” Steve asks. 

Tony closes his eyes. “No.”

“Get set.”

“Please.”

In whisper into Tony’s ear, Steve says, “Who said I was a virgin.” And then he thrusts the shield down the slope. 

Tony jolts as the makeshift sled bouncing over the bumps and then it hits him what Steve said and he tries to twist around, the shield spins in response. The landscape whirls wildly around him and there’s no stopping it. The shield seems to pick up speed as it lurches down the hill while spinning like a top. He has but one choice. He launches himself off the demented sled and rolls into the cold snow, happy to be free of the ride. 

On top of the slope, he hears Steve laughing. Cupping his mouth, Steve hollers down to Tony. “Serves you right!”

Yet another mystery about Captain America. Tony wobbles and pitches forward into the snow, eating a good chunk of it. Probably ate bear piss or something else foul. He manages to get onto his feet and searches around for the shield. It’s only about ten feet from him but it’s through drifts of snow. Pushing his way through it, he grabs the sled and climbs back up the hill. It looks like the slope is ruined with all the footsteps and Tony’s body prints so maybe this whole fiasco can end. He grumbles as he makes the top of the slope.

“I suppose this is over then.” He scowls at Steve. 

“Nope, there’s the other side right there.” Steve points to the far side of the slope. “Would it be better if we go down together?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? There’s no way.” Tony folds his arms across his chest. “We are not getting on that thing together. No way.”

Steve quirks a brow at him and screws up his mouth. “You sure?”

“You’re challenging me, Rogers?”

“No, you’re challenging me. And I can tell you _from experience_ I can get two people on that shield as a sled.” He stands at parade rest as if he’s confronting his commanding officer. 

“Yes, yes I am.” Tony says.

“Okay then. Challenge accepted.” Steve plops the shield onto the snowy ground in a fresh patch of the hill. He settles onto the shield with his legs stretched out unlike his position the first time down the hill. He gestures for Tony to climb on his lap. “Come on, get on.”

“We are not going to fit. We’re two grown ass men!” Tony stands his ground.

“I dare you.” Steve waits with a raised eyebrow, knowing full well Tony is not going to back down.

“Fine.” Tony huffs. “How do you want to do this?”

“Step over me but face me. Put your feet on either side of the shield.” Steve thumps the packed snow around them.

“This is ludicrous.” He follows Steve’s directions. Soon he’s standing over Steve with his crotch near at Steve’s face. It sends a daring tinkle down Tony’s spine. He attributes it to the chilled wind. There is no wind. The damned storm used up all the wind. Tony growls.

Steve pats his lap. “Sit down.”

“On your lap?”

“Well, not on my head. Yes, sit on my lap.” Steve reaches up like he’s going to guide a toddler down to his lap. Tony bats him away and then plunks down as hard as he can. Steve only smiles at him. 

Sitting up straighter, Steve instructs, “Now tuck your legs around me.”

“You know this seems like an awful lot of work for a short thrill ride.” His legs might not bend as far as Steve wants them to, but he tries.

“Well, lots of things are like that. We still try, don’t we?” Steve says and pulls his legs in, bending them against Tony’s back. “I need you to wrap your arms around me under my arms. I need my hands free to steer.”

“How the hell are you going to see?” Tony strains to look over his shoulder. He’s fairly certain that Steve’s sight line is obscured.

“I can see – a bit.” 

“A bit?” Tony wraps his arms around Steve. “We’re going to break our necks.”

“Don’t worry.” Steve straightens as much as he can, trying to see. He wiggles his butt against the shield and that sends shockwaves through Tony. The shield starts to slide. “Here we go.” 

With a heave of his body against Tony, he gets the shield to move and then they drop, careering downward, over the bumps of snow, launching briefly and crashing back to the snow. Puffs of snow trail them and Tony grasps Steve close, the world a blur around them. At the last second, Steve leans toward the starboard side and they pitch around and the shield spins a little. Tony gasps and then shield flies down the rest of the slope only coming to a stop when Steve digs his heels into the snow causing drag. 

Tony bursts out laughing, the shock and thrill bubbling over. He falls off the shield and lies in the snow drifts looking up at the perfectly blue sky. “How the hell can you do that? Why didn’t the shield sink? It’s physically impossible. I have a fucking million questions.”

Steve rolls off the shield and lies next to Tony. “I’ve done it before. We used to crash into Nazi troops for fun like bowling.”

“Bowling for Nazis?”

Steve smiles. “Something like that. It broke up the monotony of battle. Brought a little lightheartedness to it. The first time we did it the Nazis laughed so hard we couldn’t even fight them. We all just shook hands and left.”

“Wow.” Tony smiles at the blue sky. “There’s that story about World War I on Christmas Day.”

“Yeah when all the soldiers came out of the foxholes and shared tea and cookies and played games. Sang Christmas carols.” Steve nods. “Yeah. We’re all human.”

“But how human can you be when you’re a Nazi?” 

“There is that,” Steve agrees. 

Lying there in silence with Steve and listening to the birds in the giant outdoors, Tony appreciates the slowing down of his heart, his brain, the emotions of the day, week, year. The weekend centered on nothing more than the everyday, instead of the unusual. Tony looks over at Steve. “It was fun.”

Steve smiles, small and brave in a way. “Yes, it was.” Tony’s not sure if Steve is in the here and now, or back in his time, reliving his glory days. His answer comes almost immediately, “You want to do it again?”

“You bet I do!” Tony says and leaps to his feet. “Race ya!”

It’s no race at all. The super soldier serum gives Steve an edge that Tony can’t overcome, but it doesn’t matter because they spend the next few hours on the slope, carving it up with their makeshift sled. Tony keeps up a play by play as if they are Olympic contestants and it thrills and amuses Steve so that he begs him to stop because his face hurts from laughing so much. Eventually, Tony claims the crown of victory as Steve surrenders and drops into the snow pleading no more.

“What happened to I can do this all day?” He stands over Steve, staring down at him.

“It’s the cold, I suffered too much from it. I’m going into stasis. I can’t handle it; Tony save me!”

“Ah! The cold is not your Kryptonite, you already confessed that to me! But I do know your Achilles’ heel.” Tony declares and plants himself on top of Steve, knees to each side of his hips.

Steve raspberries the air. “Oh really. Ah! You know nothing.”

“It’s your shield. Your bloody shield. You sleep with the damned thing, don’t you?” Tony guesses. Truly he has no idea, other than the territory he avoids completely. 

“You’re off by a gazillion miles!” He chortles at Tony and then swipes his arms and legs to make a snow angel.

“Nope. I bet I’m not. Maybe it’s your commitment to 40s music. Like you never listen to anything else.”

Steve keeps creating his angel in the snow. “That’s not true. I listen to the Stones and the Beatles. Once in a while Beyoncé.”

Tony joins the dance and spreads out to make his own angel. “Well, you’re not fooling anyone, Rogers. You have a Kryptonite. Everyone does.”

Steve halts his snow angel and gazes silently up into the cloudless sky as if he is communing with it. Abruptly then he moves, almost too quickly for Tony to track his movements. He bends over Tony and his flush cheeks and wild eyes take up his line of sight. 

“You want to know what my Kryptonite is? You really want to know, Stark?” He pushes down into the snow with his hands on either side of Tony’s head. He’s ruining Tony’s angel. He doesn’t wait for Tony’s answer. “It’s you. Always you. I haven’t stop thinking about you, wanting you since that day in the Helicarrier. No, not when we fought because I know that’s the moment you would go to – the moment we figured out together where Loki would strike. I knew we were a match. I could fucking feel what you were going to say, what you were going to do. When you flew that bomb up into the void, my heart split open and I knew for sure if you didn’t come back that I wouldn’t stay, that I would do everything in my power to leave and disappear. It’s always been you, Tony. Always.”

He staggers backward and falls into the snow. When Tony tries to talk to him, he’s spent and overcome with his revelation as if the words that poured out of him to Tony had actually been the first time he’d recognized them himself. Tony lies there for a second, the songs of the birds the only noise other than Steve’s harsh breathing. 

A strength suffuses Tony then – because he _knows_ exactly what to do. It’s not magic, it’s not a mystical soul bond, it’s simply what anyone would do for someone they cared about that’s hurting. He climbs to his feet and stands over Steve, offering him a hand up. For a second Steve only stares at him but then he grabs Tony like a lifeline and accepts the help. Tony knows it’s only a first step, but it’s a step. He scoops up the shield for Steve and then in silent agreement they head back to the house. 

Once inside the laundry room, by mutual unspoken consent they strip down to their undershorts and leave their outerwear to dry on the hooks near the door. Tony brings the shield inside and perches it against the side of the kitchen cabinets. Without a word, he grasps Steve’s hand and leads him upstairs. Surprisingly he’s pliant and doesn’t resist. At the door to Steve’s room, Tony stops. 

“Why don’t you take a shower, get dressed, and come downstairs? I’ll get some hot chocolate if we have makings.”

“We have makings,” Steve confirms because of course they do. 

Tony nods and then leaves, not waiting to find out if Steve follows his directions. Instead, he goes to his own room, takes a quick shower, and changes into sweats and a hoodie. Once back downstairs, he notices that Steve has joined him and he’s not sure if that’s good thing or a bad thing. He sets about in the kitchen, finding the cups for hot chocolate and filing the water reservoir for the Keurig. He’s about to place one in the chamber when a hand stops him.

“I’ll make real hot chocolate,” Steve states. By the looks of him, he needs this so Tony acquiesces. Sometimes a menial task helps right the mind. Tony’s done enough simple re-wires to verify that little fact.

Tony back away. “What do you want for dinner? Maybe I can start that?”

Steve snickers but it’s lacking his usual sarcastic edge. “Pepper told me about your lack of culinary skills.”

“Okay, so what can I chop and help with?”

Steve glances at the clock. It’s a little after 2 pm in the afternoon. “We could probably have the roast chicken. We still have enough time for that.” He goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a large whole chicken from the lowest shelf. “I brought three, but I think we’ll just need the one.” He puts it in the sink. “But I still think I’ll need something for lunch since this probably won’t be done until around 5:30 or so. Do you want to make something for lunch?”

“Oh, okay,” Tony says and searches around the kitchen.

“Just a couple sandwiches would be fine.” Steve’s stomach growls in protest. “Or four or so.”

Tony laughs and gets to work right away. Steve leaves the whole chicken in the sink and washes it. Then he finds a roasting pan and brings out a bag of herbs and spices. With some olive oil and butter brushed on the skin, he rubs the herbs on the breast and legs.

“So that your secret recipe?”

Steve only frowns and shakes his head. “Simple herbs that’s all.” He finishes up and with the oven heating, places the chicken into the oven to cook. He cleans up and washes his hands. “I’ll start the hot chocolate now. Maybe you can get to work on those sandwiches.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Tony focuses on the task at handle, a little amazed that they’ve each compartmentalized so well what happened out on a snowy slope. 

As if he reads Tony’s mind, Steve says, “I’m sorry for my outburst, Tony. That wasn’t fair of me.”

He places the deli meat packet to the side and turns to face Steve who is currently stirring milk on the stove. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I told you the other day that I’m not – I’m not going to be like that. That I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” The whole time he speaks, he concentrates on stirring the milk on the low flame.

“You made a promise to a man who died over 70 years ago, Steve.” Tony stays put though every fiber in his body wants to cross the distance between them. He has a secret. A secret that’s worse than finding out about his parents. 

“It’s still a promise. I can’t go back on it.” Stirring, the stirring never stops.

“Okay, then I made a promise to you – about secrets.” Tony clasps his hands together, firmly, holding on to sanity. “Well, I have a secret that I think you should know.”

Stirring, stirring – then it slows and comes to a halt. He looks up at the tiled back splash behind the stovetop. “What’s that?” He doesn’t turn around to face Tony. They are so in sync, Tony knows he knows. They both know. It’s not a secret it’s a big fat honking elephant in the room.

Tony bites his lip and starts, “Steve.”

“Please.” It’s a low whisper, a plea, soft and tender.

“You deserve to hear this, Steve. You deserve to know.” Now, Tony crosses the space, he reaches out and touches Steve’s cable knit sweater. It’s soft under his fingers. “Steve, look at me.”

With a prod, Steve shifts around and looks at Tony. His eyes are bright and clear, his features twisted with pain.

“Steve, I’ve held onto this secret for nearly my whole life. I read about you; I watched every silly movie you were in. I listened to Howard’s stories never believing that the man could live up to the legend, but you have. I can’t hold onto this anymore. It’s too big. It’s too much to hold in. My secret is you. You’re my Kryptonite, too. I want you, I want to build my life around you, I want you to break a promise you made a million years ago because you want me and can’t stand for me to leave you. I love you, Steve Rogers. I have always.”

Steve closes his eyes and a single tear escapes. “Tony.”

Tony grasps Steve’s hands. “Tell me, tell me that Erskine was a good man.”

Steve inhales and then says, “The best.”

“Tell me he would want you to be happy. He would never hold malice of intent over you.”

“Never, he wouldn’t do that to me,” Steve whispers and the tears are flowing freely now. “Did you know he was Jewish and escaped Nazi Germany? He came to America to find freedom. He came-.”

“Tell me that he would condemn you then. Tell me?” Tony says. Though his words are firm, his tone is gentle.

“No. He would never condemn me.” Steve frees his hands and covers his face. 

“Release yourself from a vow that Erskine would never hold you to. One thing I did learn in all my reading was that you are one stubborn son of a bitch. You can hold onto this promise, but the truth is – the truth is if Erskine was alive today, he would never hold you to it. He wouldn’t even ask it of you. He would want you to be happy.” He removes Steve’s hands from his face. “Tell me, Steve, can you be happy with me?”

Stumbling forward, Steve falls into Tony’s arms. He buries his head in Tony’s hair, his whole body trembling. The structure of Captain America crumbles in his arms. Tony is responsible for destroying it. Something dark and horrifying wells up. He strokes Steve’s back and tries to comfort him all the while feeling like a traitor.

“Steve, it’s okay to want something for yourself. You don’t have to drop the shield because of your own needs.”

Remaining silent, Steve tightens his embrace even though his body falters and weakens in Tony’s grasp. He feels a part of Captain America dying and he scrambles to fix it to mold it back to life. “Steve, you don’t have to give anything up. People believe in you not because you’re selfless but because you give of yourself.”

“I don’t-.” Steve tries but fails to express himself.

Tony pulls away a little and pushes Steve’s hair out of his eyes. “Listen to me, don’t cry for the fools that will hate you, they don’t understand love. Don’t cry for the fools who will condemn you, they’re already condemned in their narrow view of the world. Don’t cry for them – they will never approve of you, regardless.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not crying for them. Crying for you.”

“What? Why?” Tony cups his cheek.

“What I said, how I ignored you. How much I wanted you and I kept denying it.”

“Hey, hey!” Tony searches his features, landing on his troubled eyes. “Listen. We have our lives to figure it all out. If you’re willing.”

Steve nods. “Yes, Tony. Yes, oh God, yes.” He’s about to nuzzle into the crown of Tony’s head again but the distinct stench of burning milk fills the air. “Oh shit!” Steve rushes to the stovetop to turn off the pot. He sniffles. “It’s ruined.”

Tony stands next to Steve and hesitates before he places his hand on the small of his back. “Well, we can have sandwiches and coffee.”

“Can we have tea? Ma used to make me tea when I was upset or sick.” 

“Yeah we can have tea.” Tony grabs the kettle. “I’ll make it!” He fills the kettle and then goes to the cupboard he’s seen Steve retrieve some of their dry good. The only tea he finds is herbal. “Is this okay?”

Steve smiles as he takes the pan off the stove and pours the burnt milk down the drain. He sighs heavily, but Tony lets it pass. Processing a major shift, a paradigm shift, in thinking shouldn’t be coddled or downplayed. He needs time and Tony intends to give it to him. Tony finishes the sandwiches as Steve cleans the scorched milk off the bottom of the pan. 

“Fire?” Tony asks.

Steve nods. “That would be nice.”

Tony busies himself with the fire, only furtively glancing over at Steve who spends his time working on the pan and then pouring the water for the tea when the kettle whistles. He places the mugs and the plate with the sandwiches on a tray and brings them over to the living room area. He doesn’t set them in front of the fire, but choses the less casual, less romantic space at the couch. He settles across from the couch in a recliner. Tony accepts it and then takes his seat across from Steve on the couch. 

“I made you three sandwiches. I didn’t know if that was enough,” Tony says.

Steve’s already nearly finished one of the sandwiches. “It’s good.” He chews around the words. “If I’m hungry I’ll have a few apples.”

Tony bites into his sandwich and then says – because he’s always curious and he’s a scientist and why the hell not? “Do you shit a lot?”

Steve coughs and food spews out of his mouth. “Wh-what?”

“I mean you eat enough for like 4 or 5 people. I just wondered if you pooped a lot too.”

Steve wipes his face with a napkin and then says, “Well if you must know, I don’t think so. I mean I haven’t measured how much other people shit or anything, but I think my body uses the nutrients more efficiently.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Of course, it would.”

“I don’t think this is a proper topic for when we’re eating anyhow.” Steve sips his tea, then continues to devour his sandwiches.

“Well, if we’re going to be together we might as well lay it all on the line. The good, the bad, the beautiful (that’s me), and the ugly.” He munches a bit on the sandwich.

“I hope I’m not the ugly.”

“That’s Barton.”

Steve snorts. “What the hell does Hawkeye have to do with our relationship?”

“Ah! Admit it! You admitted we are now officially in a relationship.” Playing with Steve cuts the tension and it concerns him that this little tangent might derail them, but it doesn’t.

“There hasn’t be a proper kiss. So, I’m not really sure.” He looks at the kitchen. “Why don’t we have fries. I need fries.”

“That’s a diversion. I refuse to be off put by a diversion!” He jumps up, dusts his hands off, and when Steve doesn’t run for the hills, he sidles onto the arm of the recliner. “Kiss me, you big muscle bound man.”

Laughing around his sandwich, Steve says, “You’re not taking this seriously.”

Tony gazes down at Steve as he slips onto his lap. “That’s the point, Steve. You don’t have to take it seriously all the time. Relationships, love, let’s you be silly, let’s you ask ridiculous questions, let’s you be you.”

Steve runs his hands up against Tony’s waist. “What made you the expert?”

“Maybe I have a little bit of experience in knowing what isn’t love.”

“We’re talking love.” His voice is a whisper.

Tony bends close to Steve’s mouth; their foreheads touch. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? All this time, Steve. We wasted too much time.”

He’s quiet under Tony’s touch. An almost imperceptible shudder and he replies, “I don’t want to waste time. I’ve been lost to it for too long.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony - together at last - plus a little other fix it as an epilogue! 😉

Carefully, Tony moves at the same time Steve reaches upward and then they meet with an urgency and desire neither voiced, but both understood. At first the kiss is tentative, a testing of the waters. It grows then as a slight moan slips out of Tony and that encourages Steve. He wraps his arms around Tony, shifting him fully onto his lap. All the while they never stop touching, never stop kissing. The heat roils and coils deep in Tony’s groin and just small movement sends another cry out of him. Steve answers him with a moan of his own. Emboldened, Tony reaches down and tugs Steve’s shirt so that he can run his fingers against hot skin. 

Tony never played many instruments as a child, just the requisite piano, but caressing Steve reminds him of how every small stroke, every gentle pulse causes a reaction, a melody. It’s the same with Steve. He shudders and writhes under Tony’s hands. The power of touch rings true when it comes to Steve – it very nearly undoes Tony. His hands on Steve’s shoulders, he pushes away. The look of disappointment on Steve’s face mirrors his own, but if he learned anything through the years – slow and steady wins the race especially in matters of love. Or so he thought. He’d never actually won the race.

“I think we need to slow it down.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s words are slightly slurred as if he’s drunk.

“Yeah, I do. Plus, I think you’re blood sugar is dropping and you need to eat more.” Tony reaches to the table and brings Steve’s plate over to him. “Eat.”

“Is that an order?” Steve smiles, and it’s so deliciously delightful Tony almost tosses the plate away and devours him.

“If you want it to be,” Tony whispers, his heart racking a beat in his chest. Steve beams again but with a lazy almost loopy look in his eyes. “I swear Steve if this is low blood sugar, if this is your Kryptonite-.”

“I already told you, you’re my Kryptonite. As far as this-.” He giggles a little. “This is how it is when I need food. You are right about that, but I usually hide it.” Steve snorts and starts to full out laugh.

“You are really punch drunk aren’t you?”

“If that means losing it, yes. I do need to eat.” He grabs a sandwich and in no time at all gobbles up the whole thing. “I might need more.”

Tony takes it as a request and, since they are officially in a relationship (after all that was one good kiss), he wants to prove his worth. “What do you want?”

“Fries, if you don’t mind. There’s a frozen bag in the freezer. I brought it. Just make half of the bag.” Steve hums to himself after he gives Tony the instructions. “You can go ahead and use the oven. It will just take a bit longer for the fries to cook because of the chicken.”

Tony preps the cookie sheet he found in the drawer under the oven all the while Steve hums in the living room. As he pops the sheet with the frozen fries in the oven it occurs to Tony that Steve often hums – at weird times, sometimes even in battle. 

“Huh.” He rejoins Steve in the living room and asks, “You hum in battle, don’t you?”

Steve’s plate is clean. “Sometimes.”

“You do it when your loopy from hunger, don’t you?” Tony narrows his eyes at him. He knows he’s right.

“It helps keep me focused.” He looks around and then frowns. “I wish I had a pickle.”

“You are weird when you’re hungry.”

Steve grins. “Tell me about it. I once forced Dum Dum to dance the polka with me in the middle of camp. We were out of rations and we only trapped a single skinny hare. I was about starved to death.”

“You know how to polka?”

“Not even a little bit. And neither did Dum Dum.” Steve chuckles.

“You are truly evil.”

He lifts his mug and salutes Tony. “I try to be. Thank you.”

They fall silent for a few minutes, before Tony says, “I think I’m going to like being with you Steve. You make me smile. You make me happy.”

“I’ll make you swear and curse sometimes, too.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Tony says as he sits back with his cup of tea. “But I think we can do this.”

“This we will do together,” Steve says. He lies back on the recliner and Tony takes it as an invitation. He crawls up onto Steve’s lap, curling his head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Tony’s about to break their perfect peace when his phone does it for him. A tiny chime and he knows that Friday is alerting him. While still on Steve’s lap he digs out his phone and answers. “How’s my girl?”

“Stop being sexist, boss. You know I don’t have a gender. Plus, if I was a woman that would be very sexist and patronizing.”

Tony rolls his eyes. Why did he program this AI to be overly sassy. “I apologize to your electrons. Tell me what’s the scoop.”

“My electrons whirl in their d-orbits with excitement. From the news reports and my surveillance, it looks like the roads won’t be open for at least another few days. The Avengers have a Quin Jet they are preparing to pick you up. They expect to get clearance by tomorrow morning.”

He glances at Steve; whose expression remains neutral. 

With no clue on how to proceed, Tony replies, “Sounds good. Let’s try for late morning. I might need to sleep in.”

“As always, boss.” 

Once the phone call disconnects, Steve says, “Sleep in?”

“I’ve never been an early riser, Steve. You might want to get used to that now.” He gently tosses the phone to the coffee table. It just makes it and skids across the tabletop. Steve hisses. 

“I’ve always known you weren’t an early riser. I think everyone knows that. You sleep weird.”

“You eat weird; I guess we’re a match made in heaven.” Tony nuzzles a bit at Steve’s neck who melts further into the chair. As Tony starts to kiss a line down his clavicle the timer dings. Steve sits up as if to answer it, but Tony pushes him back down. 

“It’s the fries.”

“They can wait.”

“I can’t. Unfortunately.”

“Oh shit!” Tony jumps out of his arms and nearly busts his knees when he falls forward into the coffee table, only Steve’s quick action of yanking him back saves him. He gasps and Steve’s lays his head against Tony’s back. 

“Maybe we should go together.”

“Maybe.” 

They get up and go to the kitchen. The fries are done to perfection and the roasting chicken looks good. While Tony dishes out the fries and gets both ketchup and vinegar out for a selection of condiments, Steve bastes the chicken.

Without being asked, Steve explains, “I had to cook a lot when my mom got sick. She kept wanting to go to a sanatorium because of the TB. She was afraid I would catch it. I never did. She did end up in the sanatorium. The landlord of the tenement reported us, and she was forced to go. I stopped cooking for a long time after she died. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Tony places the plates with the fries on the island. “Do you want to go home tomorrow?” He knows it’s not a good transition, that Steve just confessed something about his mother, but he needs to know. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go if you want to,” Steve says as he closes the oven. He’s not looking at Tony. He’s gone to the cupboard to pull out a bag of potatoes he brought. 

“Do you want to leave?”

Steve takes out 5 of the largest Idaho white potatoes and puts them in a colander in the sink. He glances quickly at Tony, but then focuses on his task. “Listen, I know you have a lot of responsibilities, not only to the Avengers but to Stark Industries. So, I get it that you have to go. I understand.”

“How long is the contract on the house for?” Tony never pays attention to details like that, his life is orchestrated by unseen assistance and AIs. 

“Ten days. But I knew that we probably wouldn’t stay that long. It would be ridiculous to think that we would get that much time off as a team, but I rented it for ten days.” He scrubs each potato like he’s done it a thousand times. Maybe he has, maybe he had a lot of KP duty as a soldier. 

“We’ve only been here a few days. We could stay.”

“Tony, it’s not necessary,” Steve says and pulls out a roll of aluminum foil. He rolls each potato in the foil. 

“Tell me. We promised. Together and no secrets.” Tony knows Steve’s heart amplifies the ache in his chest.

He takes out a fork and stabs each potato with gusto. “We just got to this place. This place we’re exploring and I’m not sure how fast we’re going to go and -.”

“And if the outside world interrupts it, who knows what will happen,” Tony says. He crosses the short distance between them, standing behind Steve, but wrapping his arms around his waist. “I get it. I feel it too. I don’t want the world intruding on us. Not just yet.”

“Then we stay?” Steve asks. His hands have stilled on the potatoes.

“We stay.”

Steve abandons his task and turns around to face Tony. “We’re really doing this?”

“Yes, we are.”

When their lips touch, the newness and the trepidation falls away while their desire and eagerness blossoms and grows. In his day, Tony’s kissed so many people, but it’s never been quite like this, never felt like he wanted it to last beyond the physical sensation, that he wanted it to develop into something deep and abiding. He thought he loved Pepper, but it was never like this, never so profoundly intense. He never knew this before in his life. The touch of Steve’s lips, the exploration and taste of his tongue sets Tony on fire not only in his body, but in his soul and his mind. His entire self yearns and wants. He grasps hold of Steve’s shirt and holds on but knows he needs to let go; he needs to ensure they take this slow. He wants it to last, to endure. 

He pulls away, breathless and wanting. “God, Steve.”

With his big hand, Steve cups Tony to his shoulder. “I never knew how empty I was until today.” Steve kisses the crown of his head, something that Tony’s sure he’ll never get enough of. “You’ve filled me up. I didn’t know.”

A particularly hateful worry nags at Tony. “Do you think it would have been this way with someone else. I mean you haven’t been with a man?”

“Not exactly with a man-.”

“I’m not sure what that means?” Tony steps back to study Steve.

“I had a friend as a kid. We would fool around when we were teens. Arnie knew he was homosexual. I was just – you know – experimenting. We never did anything more than touching and kissing a little. But it scared the shit out of me, so I stopped. Arnie.” Steve stops. “Well, he knew.” He doesn’t elaborate on Arnie’s fate, but Tony sees that it upsets him, feels it through the tension in his muscles. 

“How about we eat our fries and then maybe watch a movie?” Tony says. He rubs Steve’s back.

“That sounds nice, plus I am getting the downward part of the curve for my hunger.” He finishes the potatoes and tosses them on a rack in the oven with the chicken. 

“Downward part of the curve?” Tony pulls up a stool and sits at the island. He doesn’t touch the fries. The sandwich was more than enough for him.

“I get emotional? Or I can’t really hold back my emotions as well?” Steve says as he joins Tony. Immediately, he eats. 

Tony picks up one of the fries and points it at Steve. “These are all good pointers to know. I think we can spend the next week finding out a lot about each other. It’s like a little honeymoon at the beginning. Kind of cool.”

“Well, you might get sick of me. We might get sick of one another.” 

Tony feigns distress. “Me? Get sick of me? Never!” Steve reacts just the way he wants him to by laughing and leaning forward for a little kiss. It’s sweet and right and sets Tony afloat. He doesn’t know what he did to score someone so wonderful, but he’s never going to let him go. “Now, eat your fries and then we can watch a movie or something.”

Steve tucks into his fries. “I was thinking about drawing for a bit. It’s so beautiful here. If you don’t mind?”

“Mind? No!” Tony says though he is a little disappointed. It means he’ll have to make himself scarce.

“What have you found to do in the basement?” Steve dips his fries into the vinegar.

“Some old wiring. Cleaning it up and fixing it.”

He smiles with pride. “You would.” He hops from the stool, not finishing his generous portion of fries. Tony barely touched his own. “I think I’d like to work on drawing now. I see you in a bit?”

“Sure.”

Steve gathers up his supplies and climbs the stairs. He must like the view from his balcony. Tony sits at the island, staring at the cold fries. No one likes cold fries and it’s really not possible to warm them up and get the same satisfaction. He peers over his shoulder at the stairs and then back at the fries. Sighing, he collects the dishes, scraping the plates and tossing the trash. He puts the dishes in the sink and debates on putting them in the dishwasher. Steve doesn’t use the dishwasher so it means they will stay there not cleaned. He should just wash them. 

“Tony?”

“Hmm?” He’s not really listening.

“Are you coming?”

He jerks around and finds Steve standing at the landing. “What?”

“Are you coming? I thought you were okay with it?” 

_With what?_ “Huh?”

“The drawing. I want to do you and the scene from the back porch. You don’t have to sit on the porch, but inside in front of the sliding glass doors.” Steve waits on his response.

Frowning, Tony reviews the conversation in his head. He doesn’t remember Steve ever asking him to sit for a portrait but maybe it was part of his hunger loopiness. He should be happy he wasn’t forced to dance the polka. “Coming, let me finish up here.” He picks up a towel and shakes it as if that tells the whole story. It satisfies Steve, who nods and leaves to go back to his room. 

“This is new.” Tony stands there with the towel in his hands, nervous like it’s his first date ever. He rubs the towel in his hands, trying to stop the sweating. “Fuck.” It’s not like Steve asked him to fuck. It’s a simple drawing, but what if it’s the Titanic type with nakedness and sensuality. He’s truly fucked. 

Sure, he’s not timid when it comes to being naked around people. He’s used to that, totally. Hell, there are probably more naked photos of him in existence on the internet than clothed. Yet, Steve seeing. With his scarred chest. Tony lays a hand on his sternum – a titanium net to sew his ribcage back together again. What would Steve think? Would it disgust him? Gross him out?

“Tony?”

“Coming!” He rights his shoulders and marches upstairs, feeling more like a soldier that a boyfriend. He resists the urge to state, reporting for duty captain. Clearing his throat to announce his entrance, Tony smiles and steps into Steve’s room. “So where do you want me?”

Steve gestures to the chaise lounge that’s situated in a sunbeam next to the sliding glass doors. “The light is fantastic in the late afternoon like this. I thought it would be great for you to be partially facing away from me with your elbow propped on the back of the chaise, looking at the scene outside.”

Tony swallows hard and yanks off his hoodie. He’ll get this part over with as quickly as possible. Tossing the hoodie, he unzips his pants.

“Wait. What are you doing?” 

“Getting undressed.” He still has his t-shirt on, surely Steve’s not so disgusted with him that he’s going to cancel the whole thing. He freezes. “Do you not want to do this?”

Steve crosses the room and folds Tony’s hands in his own. “I would never ask you to do a nude without your express permission Tony. Your t-shirt and jeans are good, but I would love you to have bare feet. I’m working on drawing feet, so that might help me.” He presents the chaise lounge again. “There’s a fire in the fireplace here so you won’t be cold.”

“Oh, I didn’t.”

“Tony? What is it?”

“Before we do this.” He’s taking the bull by the horns and wrestling it to the ground. “You need to see something.” He pulls the t-shirt off and stands there, waiting to be rejected. He’s been rejected one way or another all his life. Tapping on the wirenet under his scarred skin that serves as his sternum, he says, “It’s fake. Titanium netting. Slowly builds up scar tissue and re-enforces it much like a stent. At first it was pretty flimsy, scared the shit out of me. But now it’s better, firmer. Not much scarring if you consider the-.”

Steve’s right by his side suddenly, holding his hand over the one Tony inadvertently put on his own chest. “I’m grateful every day that you had the arc reactor, that it saved you, that you were eventually able to take it out. The scars show me that you are still here with me. Tony, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Tony releases a breath and shivers against Steve who encompasses him in his big arms. Steve shushes him when he tries to explain his fear. “I thought-.”

“Shush, you don’t have to tell me about body dysphoria Tony. I think I might have invented it.” He lifts Tony’s chin and stares into his eyes, focused, true, and so very earnest. “You’re beautiful to me.”

“I think-.” Tony stops he’s over the moon, he hit the jackpot. He must be dead. “I think I must have died. Did Ultron kill me?”

Steve laughs and lightly kisses him. “No. Thank God for that. Come. Sit for me?” Tony nods and goes to grab his t-shirt, but Steve stills his hand. “If you don’t mind, can we go without the shirt?”

Inside the world trembles but Tony’s able to nod in agreement. He lets Steve place him just so. The back of the lounger is toward the glass doors, and the sunbeam strikes Tony partially over his face but mainly in his chest. One arm is on the back of the lounger. Steve has him look slightly away so that the sun isn’t in his eyes. His legs are stretched out on the lounger with one leg bent. 

“Good?” Steve asks. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah. Good.” Tony hopes to hell he’s not trembling on the outside.

“Cold?”

“No. I’m good.” 

“Good. Now just relax.” Steve takes a seat at a 45 degree angle from Tony and the sound of his charcoal scratching the paper fills the room. “You can talk if you want. I’ll give you some breaks over the hour it will take me to sketch. I just need to rough it in, you don’t have to sit for the whole process.”

“It’s okay. Whatever you need.” 

Over the next hour, they talk sparingly, but Tony finds it easy and peaceful. He gazes out the glass doors watching the birds flitter about the bare trees. There’s a tree with berries on it that the birds pick at and flutter away with their treats. He doesn’t think he’s ever just sat and breathed, watched the world go by without worry about it. Of course, he admits to himself that niggling thoughts in the back of his mind prickle and poke through, but there’s something about the intimacy with Steve that changes his perspective. He’s never known this kind of closeness, where he feels perfectly comfortable. His worries melt away and he becomes – he is – he is just breathing, being.

“Okay, I think I have enough,” Steve announces and Tony jerks toward him.

“Really? It’s been an hour?”

“Actually, a little over an hour. I’m sorry I didn’t give you much of a break, I just got into it.”

Tony sits up and he feels a little stiff, but a good kind of stiff. “Can I see?”

“Not yet, most of it is roughed in with circles and lines. I’ll do some more but you can leave if you want.”

Tony thinks about it. “If you don’t mind, I have some emails and stuff to answer. I could just do it here, with you?” 

Steve beams. “I’d like that.”

Tony rushes over to his room, picks up his tablet that he abandoned the first day and brings it back to Steve’s room. “Do you want coffee?”

“Sure, if you’re making some?”

Tony grabs his t-shirt and puts it on. “Your wish is my command.” He escapes before Steve can reply. In no time at all he’s back in the room with two steaming mugs of coffee. He places one mug on the table next to Steve but fails to get a peek at the drawing. To cover he says, “The chicken smells really good.”

“Shit the potatoes are probably already done.”

“I’ll take them out.” He hurries back downstairs and finds the oven mitts to pull out the potatoes. He puts them on the back of the stove where he feels heat coming out. When he goes back to join Steve, he reports, “Potatoes are on the stove, near the back to keep them warm. But I think the chicken will be done soon too.”

“Should be in just thirty minutes or so. I just want to finish up a little more on this and then I’ll go down.” Steve goes back to work.

Tony settles back on the lounger with his coffee and tablet. He focuses on his emails – which are numerous and painful. He knows he’s missing important R&D sessions at Stark Industries, but they can and should be able to function fully without him all the time. He sends a few curt emails to his second in command at the R&D department. Then he’s back to answering emails for Pepper. Those are at least easier. When he looks up Steve’s gone, he must have snuck out to finish dinner a while ago. The sun sets and the room darkens. He places his tablet on the lounger and picks up the two empty mugs.

In the kitchen Steve has the juices from the chicken cooking on the stovetop to make gravy. He’s made a salad and there’s rolls in the oven.

“God, how long was I up there alone?”

Steve chuckles. “Not long. The rolls are from a can. Those things are amazing. They pop open!” 

The dining room table is set. Tony searches around for candles and candlesticks. He finds them and places them on the table, lighting each candle. It’s a little silly since they are Halloween candles with etchings of skulls and witches along their length. 

“Nice,” Steve says, quelling Tony’s fears. “Even with the skulls.”

Tony smiles. “Anything else I can help with?”

Steve’s already carved the chicken and placed it on a platter. “Let’s just bring the food to the table.” 

They sit down to eat; Tony strategically waiting for Steve to see if he prays or anything before dinner. In the confines of the Tower or the new Avengers’ campus, Tony never saw Steve in the actual act of prayer, but since they are being open with each other he might do it now. He doesn’t. 

“You should pick what you want from the chicken first,” Steve says.

Tony nods and selects a breast. He then adds his potato which is still warm to the touch, some salad, and a roll. When he looks over to Steve he sees that he has the other breast, thigh, and two legs in his dish and therefore has no other room for food.

“You should use a bigger plate,” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Steve cringes. “Sorry, it’s gross.”

Tony reaches across the table and strokes Steve’s hand. “Don’t. It’s not gross. You need it. Just don’t skimp.”

Steve nods silently. Dinner is a quiet affair. Tony tells Steve about where Stark Industries is headed next and that he’s dissembling the Iron Legion. Too many variables leave it as a liability rather than an asset. They also touch upon the idea of a shield around the world. Steve’s not sold on the idea, and Tony worries it might fall into the wrong hands at one time or another.

“One of my employees thought of satellites that deploy drones to surveil and fight but what if someone gets their hands on it. They could manipulate it, cause all kinds of harm.”

Steve finishes a chicken leg. “The safest hands are still our own.”

“Are you sure, Bruce and I built Ultron?” It haunts Tony. He doesn’t often admit to it, that he actually questions he’s own judgement. “People died because of Ultron. Died because of us – of me.”

Steve squeezes Tony’s hand. “We’re a team. It’s us. You were right the first time. We need to be more open about what’s coming down the pike, our fears. When we get back, we’ll have a brainstorming session to see what the senior team thinks. What we should do – but I think our best asset is still people, Tony. Avengers on one side of the country, in one little pocket in the world-.”

“Doesn’t work.” Tony considers the idea formulating between them. “If the UN would buy into it, we could deploy Avengers throughout the world.”

“As long as the UN doesn’t manipulate who we are and what we stand for,” Steve says. “I don’t want another SHIELD.”

“Agreed. We have to do this logically, and slowly. We need buy in.”

“And if we don’t get buy in?” Steve asks. “Do we go rogue?”

Tony pokes at his salad. “Oh, you mean you running around with a beard and split t-shirt down the chest as your uniform?”

“I’m not even sure what that means. We need to get the majority of nations to ask for our help. So, we need to start extending our hand. Lay out on the line what we stand for – a list.” Steve’s consumed all the chicken on his plate and starts on the rolls. Previously Tony poured a nice Riesling for their dinner. He downs the glass in between his bites. 

“Like a Bill of Commitments or Actions -.”

“A Statement of Responsible Actions.” Steve nods. “If we address what went down with Ultron and how we intend to modify how we act – I think it’s possible. I think we can do this, Tony. It’ll take a lot of work and collaboration.”

“But we do it our way,” Tony agrees.

They talk a little more about Avengers business but fall into more intimate conversation as Tony explains his falling out with Pepper. “She couldn’t accept me as Iron Man. I understand her distress, but I couldn’t sit on my hands. It’s who I am.”

“I understand. When I was younger and smaller, no one could see me. I mean even my best friend didn’t see me as a fighter. He kept wanting me to stay out of trouble.”

Tony snickers. “But trouble is your middle name.”

Steve smirks. “You could say that.”

After a little more conversation, a lot more wine, they are both spent and tired. Steve gets up to clean the kitchen, but Tony stays his hand. “No. I’ll do it. You made the meal, the least I can do is clean.”

Steve rubs his hands down his jeans. “Okay. I’ll get some firewood and then I may go up to my room for a bit to work, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, sure!” Tony waves him off and focuses on cleaning the dishes. He doesn’t think about what ‘work’ means to Steve, or at least he tries not to think about what work means. His mind is an endless wheel, chugging over and over with a cascade of thoughts to feed it. 

He forces himself to scrape dishes, to scrub pans, but all the while his mind runs at blistering speed. Steve must want to contact the other Avengers, lay the groundwork for the conversations, this Statement of Responsibilities. Should Tony call in his side of the team? Who is his side of the team? 

The dumping of wood onto the fireplace bricks interrupts him. “You’re thinking too much. I’m not going to try and flank you, Tony.” Steve tugs off his gloves. He doesn’t have his boots on but he’s wearing his coat and gloves. Tony wonders if he went outside without shoes of any kind. “I have to answer emails, do some small administration stuff.”

“I’m not getting wrapped up in it, if that’s what you think.”

Steve shrugs off his coat and joins him in the kitchen. He kisses Tony’s temple. “That’s what I know. You get twisted in knots worrying about stuff. We’re doing this together. We’ll hash it out. I won’t mention anything in any emails. This is something we present to the team together.”

Tony presses his lips into a tight line before he releases a breath and says, “Together.”

“Now, I have some stuff to do. If you want, I’ll come back down, and we can watch something – and-.” His face blushes full red. “Cuddle?”

Tony goes all soft inside. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Before long and after the kitchen is spotless clean, Tony wanders back to his work in the basement. He’s itching to finish the job. One thing that he hates is leaving a job like this not complete. He switches on the lights and rummages through some of the shelving units to find more wires and tools he might need. He sorts the mess and then examines what he’s already done. It shouldn’t take too much longer to fix up the rewire job. He finds a certain serenity in doing work with his hands. 

For so long and for all his life, he’s been required to be the smartest person in the room. When a problem needs to be solved, all eyes turn to him. The burden rests squarely on his shoulders. The idea of sharing that burden sparks hope in his chest he can’t deny. It’s been so long that he’s relied only on himself. Even when the Avengers came together, Tony thought of them only as a momentary thing. He heaved that bomb onto his back and flew it in the hole in space because no one else could – or no. He couldn’t trust anyone else to do it. It had to be done right and he had to do it. He spent years in school and in his life learning that others couldn’t be counted on – now – counting on Steve, depending on him to be there for him along with the rest of the team still feels like a foreign concept. But he needs to accept it, get used to it. It feels like the right thing to do, he cannot deny it.

“Tony?” Steve calls from the top of the steps.

“Yeah?”

“How long will you be? Do you want to watch something or are you still busy?”

Tony frowns. He hadn’t realized so much time had passed but when he looks at his phone – it’s been over an hour. The job is done; he’s just been playing around with the connections. “Yeah, Coming right up.”

“Okay. Maybe we can figure out what to watch?”

“I got a better idea,” Tony says. He needs his tablet for it, but as he climbs the stairs, he realizes he left it in Steve’s room. “I just need to wash up a bit. I’ll be right down.” He skips up the stairs. He does go to his own room first to clean up a bit, and then heads back down the hall to Steve’s room.

The room is much like he last saw it, but the desk is littered with papers. He supposes that Steve must have brought some Avenger paperwork with him. He’s always been a stickler for reports. He goes to the lounge and retrieves his tablet but slows in front of the desk. He pauses – stopping to look. He knows he shouldn’t look. This is Steve’s private room. It’s an invasion of privacy and they just started a relationship that they both professed to be honest with each other. Something strikes him and he can’t help but look.

It’s not Avenger business.

It’s not at all what he expected.

It’s studies – artistic studies. Of people. Of Tony. So many of Tony. He pushes the papers around, seeking. Looking. In one he’s smiling. In another he’s pensive. Another he’s angry. Tony flips through the drawings. There’s no way Steve did them all over the long weekend. No one – not even a super soldier – can work that fast. Then he finds the one Steve did today. It’s rough, but it’s beautiful. The lighting especially emphasizes the contemplative look on Tony’s face. The curl of his hand and bend of his wrist as his face leans against it is exquisite. The touch of light across his scarred chest has signs of love and adoration with every stroke.

“Tony, I-.” 

He jumps and turns to find Steve standing in the doorway. “God, Steve. I’m sorry. I came in to get my tablet.” He lifts it as if it’s a defense. 

Steve walks over to the desk, the pile of drawings. “I should be apologizing. I’ve invaded your privacy. I’m sorry.” He gathers the papers and stacks them. “If you want me to, I’ll get rid of them. I’m not a creep or anything – I only wanted to-.” 

Tony grasps Steve’s wrist. “They’re lovely. Beautiful, really. Is this.” He picks up the drawing from today. The way the light catches the lines in his face doesn’t make him look old but happy and wise at the same time. “Is this how you really see me?”

“Always Tony,” Steve whispers but he lowers his eyes, not in shame but in timidity. 

It’s surprises Tony that Steve could ever be shy. He places the drawings back on the table and turns his full attention to Steve. Sliding his hands against his well defined chest then upward to the nape of his neck. He leans in and presses his mouth to Steve’s. It’s liquid like the finest bourbon, hot and enticing at the same time. It incites something deep inside of him, his groin heats and coils with want. He’ll do whatever Steve wants or if he wants nothing at all, that’s what he’ll do. 

Steve pulls back for a moment; his eyes are wide and dark. “I want you, Tony, like I’ve never wanted anyone else before – but-.”

Tony strokes a hand down the side of Steve’s face and smiles. “But? I can wait as long as you need.”

“I’ve never done this before. Not like this. I’ve never had someone special like you before. I’ve never-.”

Tony caresses Steve’s cheek. “Hey, hey. We do it slow. We go as far as you want. I can wait, Steve. I can wait as long as you need.”

“That’s just it, Tony. I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m tired of waiting, of denying myself. Of always being practical and never opening myself up for something I want, something I need.” His large hands tighten around the small of Tony’s waist. “I want this. I want to be a little selfish.”

“Then let’s be selfish, together.”

With that tiny admission, Steve dives into the next kiss as a starving man – someone who has denied himself pleasure and happiness for so long in consideration of the mission. Tony discovers that Steve is the kind of person who kisses with his whole being. His arms encompass Tony, his mouth dances over his lips, his chin, his neck. His hands search over Tony, feeling, exploring, and teasing. In response, Tony moans and hisses; he sways a little with desire. Steve bends and then abruptly Tony’s in his arms and they’re on the bed.

“Not too forward?” Steve looks devilish with his kiss bruised lips and his wide dark pupils. 

“Not at all,” Tony says and it’s his turn to explore, to venture down the length of Steve’s body. 

There are dreams and then there is reality. Reality damages hopes and wishes, but not this time. Reality explodes away, leaving in its wake the truth. Steve shudders under Tony’s caress, under his wide and callused hands. Tony hikes up Steve’s shirt and abrades his hands over the tender peak of his nipples. He groans and closes his eyes arching into Tony’s touch. Every touch, light or heavy, sends Steve into a fit of undisguised pleasure. Once he discards Steve’s shirt, Tony plays with each nipple with his tongue, teasing it, flinging it along with little nips. Goosebumps rise over Steve’s skin as he touches, strokes, and pets.

When he looks up at Steve, he sees a man blissed out but also hanging on by a thread. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on?”

Steve inhales and exhales loudly before he says, “Very sensitive. Everything, very sensitive.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing.” Tony eases away, worried he’s torturing Steve instead of giving him pleasure.

“Good for this, bad for injuries. Good. Please, don’t stop,” Steve murmurs, a thirst so potent in his tone that it commands Tony. 

Reassured, Tony tastes Steve’s nipples. They’re pert and rosy but also with every slight touch he brings a shiver of joy and anticipation to Steve. Tony’s own body responds and his erection strains against his undershorts. He loves a responsive partner in bed; Steve is just that and even more so. Yet, this is far beyond what Tony ever hoped for – this is about permanence and love. This flesh beneath him, the way it trembles, and goosebumps appear will be his, and his alone for the rest of his life. This revelation startles and humbles him at the same time. His self-admission should terrify him, but it doesn’t. This is where he belongs, with Steve.

Lightly his fingers trace lines down Steve’s abdomen and he speaks in low tones. “I want this to be special Steve. If you only want to touch and explore then that’s fine with me. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Steve squirms beneath him and captures Tony’s hands in his own. “I want everything, Tony. All of it. I want to feel you, I want to be yours. I want to have this moment and all the moments to come with you.”

The confirmation runs through Tony and he lays his head down on Steve’s chest to listen to his heart. “If we do this, then I want to tell you I’m committed. I know you probably read a lot about me. This is not a one night stand. I don’t do those anymore. That was another me, that was a me that’s been gone for years. Today, tonight, I’m with you and for as long as you’ll have me.”

Steve bends down. “I know. Tony, I know. You don’t have to worry about that. I trust you.”

“Well, if we do this there are some practicalities.”

“Hmm?” Steve says almost in a dreamy whisper.

“Steve,” Tony says and sits up. He doesn’t want to cool off the moment, but as he said there are practicalities. “I want you to listen to me. If we do this, then I want to know how far you want to go. What you want to do. I don’t want to assume something and have this all come crashing down on our heads. It’s too important to me.”

Steve grimaces and then like a sleeper slowly wakes to Tony’s request. “It’s important to me too. What’s going on, Baby?”

Tony feels the heat come to his face at the endearment. “Do you want to do more than fool around? I mean are you interested-.” His words fail him – he’s never been shy about sex in his life but now he’s like a blushing violet. 

“Yes, I want to do more. I want you have me, I want you to be inside of me. Is that okay? Can we do that?” He bits his lower lip. “It’s rather selfish, I know, but -I’m not even sure if you’re interested in that? If you aren’t, if you’d rather-.”

Tony puts his fingers on Steve’s warm lips. “Very interested, sweetest. Very interested. If that’s what you want, I need to go and get some supplies. Can you wait here?”

“Absolutely.” 

With a quick kiss, Tony hurries out of the room and heads toward his own room. He knows that in the side pockets of this suitcase or even the toiletry bag he usually has the required lube and condoms. He rips through his case and finds nothing and then moves onto the bathroom where he goes through the toiletry bag. “Got it!” He grabs the lube and packet of condoms and rushes back to the master bedroom only to find it empty.

“Steve?” He searches around all the while a panic flurries through him and he tries to quell it. It’s impossible; it’s like trying to stop blizzard force winds. “Steve?” His voice sounds broken. He’s about to drop down on the bed when Steve steps into the bedroom with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I thought we might like some wine, too.” Tony crashes into Steve, holding onto him and burying his face in his shoulder. “Hey, hey. What’s this?”

Tony shakes his head. “Insecurities. Let’s just call it that.”

Steve lifts his chin. “Don’t do that. Don’t think this is something momentary. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you or I would walk away.”

The next moments blur – they make their way to the bed. Wine bottle gone, glasses – who knows where. The lube and condoms get tossed on the bed. Their hands never stop. It’s a rage of emotions and Tony overheats. He tears away his clothes and Steve’s are gone along with them. 

This is no dream come true. This is reality, a reality marred by pain and angst, a reality supplemented with joy and bliss. He’s seen more of his own agony over the years, but little of the happiness so many others have been able to capture. The idea that this might be only momentary has been wiped away by Steve’s assurances. Something perfect and heartfelt supports him for the first time in his life. He can be himself and not worry about rebuke, rejection, or reprimand. It’s been a constant in his life. He’s come to live with it as a yoke around his neck, like an albatross he carries with little hope of freedom. Yet, now in Steve’s hands he becomes something more, something peaceful, something hopeful. He becomes someone.

For so many years he’s been plastered on the front page of magazines, littered the internet with images. The world centered around him, and he flung out the right words and right attitude to be an influencer, a leader, a celebrity. But never in his life has he ever felt like someone. Someone deserving of kindness, someone deserving of love, someone deserving.

In his hands he touches the key to his salvation. He trembles as he caresses, the fear of loss so potent and ever present. Lying side by side, Steve grasps his hands and kisses each finger then each palm. 

“You don’t have to worry. I’m here, Tony. I’m here.” With his whispers comes the realization that Tony will never be alone again. The structure of his life changes, he feels the old life disintegrating around him, crumbling and falling like an old empire. The walls, the foundation are swept away with Steve’s ministrations. With each kiss, and lick, and taste, his old life is undone and he is reborn. 

His body arches into each caress. He finds pleasure in giving pleasure as well. Steve is a giving lover, but also one who enjoys his own pleasures and blissfully and completely falls into them with unabashed enthusiasm. Knowing that Steve’s never done anything like this before, Tony’s especially careful. He explains how he’ll prepare Steve, asking him questions, getting permissions. As Steve’s legs fall apart, he pants open and wanting for Tony. It would be a power rush for anyone else to have Captain America under their thrall, but Tony sees it as a humbling moment. That Steve trusts him so completely, that they’ve come to this end instead of any other end – it prejudices Tony against ever wanting to hurt him, ever wanting to be hurt by him. It’s a dangerous path he’s trekking, and he knows it. 

“Steve? Steve?” 

Below him Steve undulates to the feel of Tony’s fingers pressing into him. The sensual way he moves his body winds tight in Tony’s groin and he groans a little in response. Finally, he gets through to him. “Huh?”

“I think you’re ready. Are you ready?” He strokes a hand up his inner thigh. “Are you ready.”

“Yes, please,” he sobs and his cock bobs against his underbelly. 

It surprised Tony when he first set eyes on Steve’s cock that he was cut. It’s a beautiful shape and arches toward his belly; it brought such torturous anticipation in Tony that he barely had been able to speak. The first lick up the large blood vessel sent both Tony and Steve into new heights. Steve growled and clung to the bed. When he down his whole cock in one swift move, Steve cried out with such pure sweet agony that Tony almost came from the sound. The taste of his come still lingers on Tony’s tongue even as he slips a condom on and watches as Steve’s once spent cock comes to attention. 

Again, he checks in with Steve. As he lightly touches his thigh, he asks, “Are you ready?”

Steve whines and then says, “Fuck, just do it Tony. I want you, please.”

“Oh the mouth on you!” Tony snickers and then pushes the head of his cock against Steve who immediately stills. “There you go. Now it’s real. Take a deep breath, deep, deep breath. And then release it as you relax. It will make this easier for the first time.”

Steve takes several deep breaths and forces himself to go lax. His legs tremble a bit, but he manages. He releases a large breath of air and Tony pushes in. A gasp erupts out of him but then he opens and closes his eyes several times.

“Steve, talk to me?”

“So-.” He grunts. “Oh fuck, it’s so fucking good. I want – I want – I want-.”

“What is it? What do you want?” Tony desperately needs to move, but he freezes and waits. He needs this to be perfect for Steve. 

“Want always, always to be like this. So good. So full. Not hungry anymore. So full.” He wrenches his body off the bed, so much so he nearly dislodges Tony. 

With a steady hand on his legs, Tony stops him. “If you think this is good, wait until you feel it when I move.”

“Oh shit! Do that, move. Move!” It’s a command more than a cry.

Tony follows orders this one time. He thrusts forward and all the muscles in his pelvis tense with pleasure. He hisses and holds back. He doesn’t want to be like a teenage and come within seconds. He wants this to be about Steve and about him – together. He grinds forward and then until he’s buried to the hilt. Steve jerks and exposes his neck, every vein and tendon popping.

“So good. Tony, please more. More.”

“Oh you haven’t felt anything yet.” Tony picks a rhythm that’s both merciful and tormenting. A few quick thrusts and then one long torturous motion that has Steve holding on like he’s about to be thrown free of a ride. He rotates his hips in response to Steve and then hits the sweet spot, startling his lover.

“Oh shit! Fuck! What the hell was that?” Steve grits his teeth. He’s torn the sheets.

“That, my dearheart, is your prostate.” Tony smiles and then slams into that spot again sending Steve into a crazed sob of pleasure. “It’s delightful, isn’t it. That deep spot, inside you, waiting to be touched, wanting to be touched. It’s a little bit of decadence, a little secret you can keep. When we’re in a meeting.” Tony leans down, whispering over Steve. “When we’re in a meeting and I tap on the table, you can imagine that special spot that I’m hitting.” He shoves forward again eliciting a howl from Steve. “It’s a secret between you and me. You know I can touch it, I can fuck you and this reaction is ours. It’s our alone.”

A sound of lust escapes Steve’s lips that signifies absolute pure, unadulterated desire. He wants this vow between them, he needs it as much as Tony does. It locks them together. A simple tap on the table in some future meeting and Tony knows, knows in the spaces within his heart that Steve will immediately go here to this moment and they will live in a secret world – where they’ve built this relationship over the last few days in a cabin in the woods. Their fever for one another – their yearning had been low, almost denied until these last days. And now – now they have this pact between them. 

Tony slides in and hits that sweet spot again; Steve goes mad with desire and shouts out. He begs Tony for more. There’s sweat over his chest and his abdomen. Come spills over his chest and Tony leans down, licking it up. Steve jerks and throbs beneath him. 

Steve gasps and then breathes out. “Need you to touch me. Just touch me.”

Tony adjusts himself, sitting fully in Steve and then he reaches out and glides a finger up his cock, playing with the sensitive head. In response, Steve moans and throws his head back, then without warning he jerks and fucks into Tony’s fist. A fountain of come hits Tony and Steve tightens around him, convulsing with his orgasm. That’s for Tony, he can’t hold back. He slams into Steve one more time and then tips over the edge, howling as he does. It’s so right and perfect his brain blanks out and he’s riding, pulsing, and then falling on top of Steve.

He pants, realizing through his climax he hadn’t breathed. Sweat and semen mix to linger in the air. He slips out of Steve, easily enough and then reaches down to tie off the condom.

“You don’t have to use that next time, if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.”

“It’s messy afterwards if I don’t,” Tony remarks and then adds, “Next time?”

“Yeah, next time.” He embraces Tony and they lie there spent and tired. 

Tony’s not sure who moves first but they both end up in Steve’s shower, slowly cleaning one another and eventually, Tony’s pressed up against the tiled wall and Steve’s exploring him with his tongue. It’s sends Tony into a blissful space – he’s never been in subspace but he’s not that far under as far as he can tell. His body longs for Steve’s touches, his tongue, his hands, his lips. It’s as if they were made for one another. 

Before long, Tony’s had his second orgasm of the night with Steve swallowing down his come as they let the water cascade around them in the shower. They kiss for a while, easy and languid. Eventually they finish up the shower and tuck into Steve’s big bed. 

Around two in the morning, Tony wakes to find a cold spot in the bed next to him and he starts to get up, but Steve pads across the floor and climbs back into bed.

“Heard a noise. The snowplow came down the road.” He gathers Tony in his arms like he’s the most precious person in the world. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Tony doesn’t speak he only nods and folds in close to Steve. The next time Tony wakes it’s to a rapping from downstairs. Steve’s still snoring. Tony rubs at his face and peers over at the clock. It’s late, 10 in the morning. He slips away from Steve and pulls on his sweats to go downstairs. He hopes it’s not a bear in the kitchen. 

Going down into the living room, he realizes someone is at the front door. It’s cold, and he folds his arms over his chest and peeks out through the blinds. Natasha. The Quin Jet is setting in the middle of the newly cleared road. 

“Shit.” He forgot to send a message to cancel their ride. Opening the door, he grins. “A-a.”

“Yeah,” Natasha snickers. “I thought so. I brought you this. See you in a week.” She shoves a paper bag in his hands and then turns around to leave. “Oh and tell mom the kids will be waiting for the both of you when you’re done with your honeymoon.”

Tony grumbles but is at a loss for words. How does she know everything? He closes the door and shivers. It’s still fucking cold. As he walks away from the door, he hears the distinct sound of the Quin Jet’s engines revving to take off. A blistering wind shakes the house and it launches into the air. 

“What’s going on?” Steve stands at the top of the stairs with sleeping pants on and the most adorable dopey look on his face. 

“Natasha,” Tony says. He places the paper bag on the counter and goes to make coffee. “You want some?”

“Yeah. Why was Natasha here?” He steps down the stairs.

Tony can’t help but notice his bare feet. Even his god-damned feet are beautiful and Tony’s not a foot man – or at least he didn’t used to be. 

“Tony?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot to send her a message that we were staying a few extra days. She dropped off supplies though and left.” He points to the paper bag and then focuses on the coffeemaker. Taking two mugs down, he asks, “What do you want for breakfast? We worked up quite the appetite last night. Even I’m hungry.”

“Huh.”

Tony turns to find Steve staring into the open paper bag. “What?”

“It’s a packet of condoms, a fresh tube of lube, and a bottle of Champagne. Also a note.”

“What’s the note say?” Tony joins Steve at the corner of the island to get a look at the note. It’s in Natasha’s handwriting. “It says, Clint owes me a hundred bucks.”

“Did everyone know about this but us?” 

Steve snorts. “Everyone but Clint apparently. I don’t know about you. I knew how I felt about you.”

“Well, I’ve felt this way about you since I was a teenager. So I knew.”

“Poor Clint,” Steve says and pulls out the lube. “There’s a few different kinds. One is supposed to taste like strawberries.”

“You want me to put the coffee on hold? I mean we should try these out.” Tony quirks a brow. “For science.”

“Well, as you know I’m always interested in volunteering to be a subject for said scientific experiment.”

“Turning off the coffee it is!” Tony says and snatches the bag.

“This must be serious – you’re putting off morning coffee.”

Tony winks and smiles. “You know it is, dearheart. You know it is. Race ya!”

EPILOGUE  
Time passes they spend a lifetime together in only a few years. They battle together; they win together; they lose together. They never leave each other’s sides. 

Except.

They find one another separated when the battle comes. Not by choice but by circumstance. Tony is in New York planning their wedding while Steve is in Wakanda checking on Bucky’s progress. When Thanos takes out half of the living organisms in the universe, Tony looks for Steve and he’s not there – they are lightyears apart. With no idea if Steve survived the great purge, Tony nearly surrenders to his hopelessness. When he sees Steve again waiting for him, he very nearly falls over from relief. 

They work together on a plan to save the universe. It doesn’t take a decade, or five years, or even a year. It takes only weeks. Yet something goes wrong and it doesn’t matter what’s happened or how well they plan. Thanos attacks again. But they have a secret weapon, they have their very own gauntlet with minted infinity stones from the past. It should work. It will work. They are together in even this.

Yet only one of them can wield the gauntlet. Only one.

There are only a few things in this world that Tony knows without a doubt. One is his love for Steve and the second is that there are nexuses of time. Realities converge and specific events always take place. Not matter what. There’s nothing for it. The Infinity Gauntlet and the snap is a nexus of time.

Tony snaps his fingers and Thanos, his forces, all of it disappears in ashes. The power of the gauntlet with the infinity stones suffuses through him, burns and scorches him. His lungs turn into sacs of death, his skin curdles, his muscles shrivel. His brain blisters. He’s dying.

Steve falls down next to him, his helmet torn off. His face smeared with death; he sobs at Tony’s side. He’s bleeding, too. Probably too much blood, especially the slice on his arm. Tony can’t think straight, but he knows he won’t let Steve follow him. 

“Stev-.”

Steve cradles his face with his hand. His blood streams down his injured arm, puddling across Tony’s wounds like a benediction of their love. He cries as he holds onto Tony. “It should have been me. It should have been-.” His tears are stained red and they streak down his face. He kisses Tony and the pain dissipates. 

Kissing Steve has always been like kissing the best of his life. 

“Steve.” He manages the word, but he wants to say so much more before the end. Steve must go on, must try, must carry the Avengers forward to a new day, to repair the world, the universe. He can’t hide away. 

Steve looks pale beneath the grime of battle. Blood is every where and Tony wonders how much is his and how much is Steve’s. Arms gather him close and Steve lifts him, still in the armor. He must pass out because the next time he wakes he’s in a hospital room with Steve lying in the bed next to him. The wreckage of the battle is gone. The bright lights, the sunlight streaming in through the windows surprises him. He never expected to wake at all.

“What?” 

Bruce stands next to his bed, his huge form casting a shadow over the room. “It’s okay Tony. You’re going to be okay.”

He blinks and his eyes water. “I shouldn’t be.” His throat is raw and burnt.

“No. You shouldn’t be.” Bruce still has his one arm in a sling. “His blood healed you.” He indicates the slumbering super soldier.

“His blood? What?” His words rasp and fight to get out his throat.

“He noticed when he was holding you after the big snap, that your wounds were clearing, that the skin was healing. So, he picked you up and brought you to a shelter and then insisted on giving you blood.” He shrugs. It’s a massive movement. “We transported you to Wakanda. Did the science. Listened to him. Apparently, he’s a universal donor or something. The serum allows him to give blood to anyone regardless of what his blood type is.” 

“So, I’m a super soldier now?” Nothing computes.

“No. You still have significant healing to do and you do have some scarring that’s not likely to go away. But you’re going to live. Don’t be fooled Tony, your recuperation is going to be difficult and long. That’s one of the reasons you’re in Wakanda. Plus, you saved the world So, there’s that.” Bruce smiles. “Oh and here he is.”

Steve twists around and smiles at Tony. He looks adorably dopey, again. Tony can never get enough sleepy Steve.

“He’s hungry and needs a lot of food,” Tony instructs. “Can you get some?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back. Don’t take out any of the wires or tubing, okay?” Bruce lumbers out of the room.

Tony glances around and doesn’t recognize where they are. “Hey.” Bruce said Wakanda, but his brain is slow and thick.

“Hey.” Steve smiles. He’s sleepy. 

“How much blood did you give me?” Tony asks. 

“All that you needed,” Steve says and yawns. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat so let’s not debate it.”

“Not going to debate it, glad to be alive.”

“Glad you are alive.” Steve pushes the bedrail down and climbs out of bed. He wobbles on his feet and that’s a tell tale sign that he’s hungry and weak. He pulls off all the monitoring wires that Bruce begged him not to and then goes to Tony’s bed. The rail is down in an instant and he crawls into bed with him. It’s a tight squeeze but it’s about right. Tony situates himself on top of Steve and they doze.

“Hey?” Tony says.

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Steve replies. “And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” Steve whispers. His hand strokes up and down Tony’s scarred side. “Wherever we go, from now on, we go together.”

“Together.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little story. I really wanted to write a story where Steve and Tony talked, listened, and came together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! You can always follow me on tumblr - just look for winterstar95 (I am too lazy to post a link, so you can be too lazy to go and follow me too, it's cool).


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